


Ficlets (Tumblr Prompt)

by msrafterdark



Series: Originally Posted on Tumblr [4]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 68
Words: 41,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msrafterdark/pseuds/msrafterdark
Summary: Miscellaneous ficlets I have written from prompts I have been sent on Tumblr.





	1. Sweet Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: MSR sex in complete darkness. Eyes can't see but there's delicious touching and the arousing smell and the decadent sound and it's sensory overload...

You can’t see her. It’s in the middle of the night and you don’t want to roughly disturb her sleep by clicking the lamp on, but you woke up and she was breathing softly beside you—that’s all it took. She moved and you could hear the soft rustle of the sheets brushing against her bare skin and just like that, you’re hard. Now that your body has grown used to her company and the pleasure that it’s been receiving on a regular basis, your Pavlovian response to her presence has only increased.

You need to touch her. Hopefully your ever-growing knowledge of what makes her body sing will enable her to forgive you for interrupting her slumber. She’s allowed it before.

You whisper her name as you gently peel back the sheets, and she rouses surprisingly quickly, almost as if she was waiting for you. You can’t see her movements but you can sense her drawing closer and suddenly she’s against you: her hands and her lips and her clean, silky hair. You drift your fingertips over the bumps of her spine and receive her kiss with eagerness and gratitude, making sure to return it to her with relish.

You can smell her. You can smell that sweet, musky scent of her arousal that makes your mouth water. Again you wish you could see her, see the way her face flushes and the way her eyes are surely sparkling with desire. But in some ways, this is better, because you’re limited to soft skin and soft gasps and soft pleasure.

Quietly she rises up like the beautiful sleek cat that she is and lays on top of you, and it’s almost too much. You can feel her smooth legs between yours and her plump breasts and the lacy brush of the curls between her thighs. She’s rubbing against your shaft with the sweetest, most calculated pressure and somehow your hands know just where to reach to cradle her face.

“I love this, Mulder,” she breathes, the soft air from her mouth brushing over your fluttering eyelids, “I can’t believe how good this has been for us…”

Your eyes fill with tears and you hope not for the first time that she knows how much you treasure her, how grateful you are for this tremendous gift that she’s given you that has changed your life.

“Thank you,” you want to whisper into her neck, “Thank you for loving me.”

And the sweet darkness embraces you both.


	2. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mulder teases scully at dinner, under the table.. up her thigh 
> 
> (I changed it from dinner to lunch. Shh...)

The tickle is light, and honestly, if he hadn’t smirked, he would have gotten away with it. But of course, he couldn’t help but grin when he noticed you pause at the slight tap against your knee. At first you thought he’d just accidentally brushed you, but when the touch comes again, you know it’s on purpose.

Owing to the heat you picked your favorite skirt today, the one that hugs your hips and makes you feel sleek and dangerous. You know he likes it too, although more likely it’s because of the split up the back that reaches your mid thigh. What you hadn’t counted on in dressing for the weather was the fact that it made you easily assessable to his touch. And of course, he had wanted to sit next to you in the booth for lunch.

You both just finished your burgers and are sitting in comfortable camaraderie, wasting a few more minutes before the hour is over and you have to return to the office. He smiles and laughs with you, and you can’t help but be reminded of that same smile and laugh that happened in your kitchen this morning while you both were still in your pajamas. You realized as you drank your coffee with him with the sun pouring in through the windows that you were so happy it almost hurt.

And then he had to go and touch you in the middle of this restaurant, his hand just resting affectionately on your bare knee. You know it’s far from innocent, even as engaged in conversation with you as he looks.

“Mulder,” you say carefully, your heart and eyelids fluttering, “We’re on duty.”

“And on lunch break,” he cheerfully reminds you, “I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly is from at least a foot away. You’re being intimate,” you smile.

“Mm hm.”

His hand drifts carefully up the ball of your knee to the curve of your thigh. You know you should stop him – you’re in public for goodness sake – but his touch is everything you’d ever dreamed about, and really…no one can see what happens beneath a booth, right?

His touch is soft, tender but daring. You let his fingertips creep up your leg, shivering when they meet the sensitive flesh that draws closer to your apex. He’ll be expecting your sensible panties, but what he’ll be met with is the crease of your bare thigh and your curls.

You’re absurdly pleased with yourself when his jaw drops in astonishment.

“On duty my foot, Scully!” he admonishes with a tone of surprise and poorly-suppressed delight. You blush, glancing at the crumpled napkin smeared with the remains of your lipstick and your chocolate shake resting on the table in front of you.

“Underwear would ruin the line of my skirt, Mulder,” you say matter-of-factly, and in your tease you forget your guard, and your legs fall open minutely. He takes that moment to slip his oh-so-capable fingers into your curls and a gentle tip glides smoothly against the slickness of your clit. Before you even have a chance to control it your back stiffens against the plush booth cushion and a high-pitched moan leaks out between your teeth. You clench every muscle to avoid thrusting against his warm hand. You don’t think it’s possible that anything could feel better than this - except him being inside you while he repeats that recent motion again and again. While you’re both naked.

He drifts his fingertip once more over the small erect tissue, this time also running his touch briefly through your slit and you want to cry; if this continues he’s going to make you come amongst a crowd of retired brunchers and businessmen.

He suddenly pats your mound fondly, removes his hand from your skirt and grins, standing up to leave you with a gaping mouth and trembling legs. Your entire body is buzzing. It must be affecting your hearing because you barely hear it when he speaks.

“Tonight, Scully,” he promises, and slyly licks the tip of his finger as he begins walking purposefully towards the exit.

As you clumsily follow him (read: stumble) out the door you think of numerous ways to kill him – three involve strangling – but then decide you’d rather be sleeping in his arms tonight.


	3. The Flu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully has the stomach flu and Mulder's there for her through every minute of it

“Oh my **chokes** God…”

The tears of discomfort in her voice made his heart ache as he gently wiped the hair from her sweaty forehead. Her skin was pale and ashy, growing clammier as she expelled what little her stomach had left to offer into the toilet. A quiet sob followed a dry cough and he rubbed her back soothingly. He knew she hated being sick, and he hated seeing her go through it.

“It hurts…” she groaned, “I honestly have nothing…nothing more to give.”

He shushed her soothingly, waiting until she seemed stable before stiffly standing up and running a washcloth under some cool water. The moan she made when he pressed the towel to her flushed face gave him _some_ indication that he was doing right. This latest vomiting episode had come about after he’d tried to coax her into having some breakfast. A quarter slice of toast had stayed down, but when he attempted to feed her some diced cantaloupe, it was game over. She’d barely made it to the bathroom.

While she gingerly rinsed out her mouth and brushed her teeth, he dashed back into her bedroom, removing the remaining toast and fruit to prevent any future tummy upset. He loved her dearly and was grateful she was letting him tend to her needs, but he’d seen enough of her stomach contents to last him the rest of his life. After three days of this, he was ready for her to start feeling better.

He was just finishing up neatening her sheets when she came back, looking peaky but a little more alert and her curly hair pulled up atop her head. Wordlessly she smiled her thanks at him and he helped her back into the covers, pulling the blankets all the way up to her chin. Even despite her flannel pajamas and her robe, she was chilled.

“I’m sorry I threw up your breakfast, Mulder,” she said miserably. It took everything in him not to laugh at the petulance in her voice; she sounded so pitifully sincere he didn’t have the heart to tease her.

“It’s okay, Scully,” he murmured, brushing a few soft tendrils away from her face, “I can try and wow you with my sickbed culinary skills this afternoon.”

“Can you get me another washcloth?” she requested, “It felt good.”

By the time he returned with the compress he was pleased to see she had swallowed half a glass of water, and it looked as though it was going to stay down. He lay the cool fabric across her forehead and she settled into the pillows, letting out an exhausted sigh. She reached out suddenly and clumsily searched for his hand, holding it in a gentle clasp.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Mulder.”

Her eyes were closed and so she missed the adoring smile he cast in her direction. He leaned down, planting a light kiss on the tip of her nose, and left to let her rest.


	4. Schrödinger’s Paradox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mulder is jealous of one of scully's young students who shamelessly flirts with her. He decides to do something about it.. in her classroom.. over the desk

A frazzled text to his phone that morning had informed him that she’d forgotten her lunch at home and if he wouldn’t mind bringing it to her. He happily drove over early in the afternoon, neglecting to retrieve her lunch bag in hopes that he could coax her into going out to eat during her break. She wasn’t at her desk, so he figured she was still in class and hurried to the room she tended to frequent for her lectures. The door had been left partially open and he poked his head in, smiling when he saw his beautiful partner standing sleek and polished in front of the auditorium.

He loved watching Scully in action, hearing the eloquent sentences and knowledge that flowed from her—he’d become very familiar with it in the many, many years he had known her, and that length of time had done nothing to lessen his appreciation.

His attention was distracted from her when she suddenly interrupted herself.

“You have a question, Howard?”

He peered around just in time to see a tall and chiseled student in the third row lowering his hand at her acknowledgement. Mulder’s eyes narrowed.

“In your opinion Dr. Scully, does the possibility that two alternative circumstances occur in the same moment extend to all things? Say our own lives? Does this not suggest the possibility of an alternate universe?”

Scully responded almost immediately.

“Well as Schrödinger’s paradox suggests the complexity, even absurdity, of that scenario, I would venture to say it’s unlikely that something as complex and intricate as our own lives mirror that theory. But anything is possible.”

Mulder immediately felt himself stiffen in his slacks. 

 _Yes, Howard_ , he thought possessively, _just like you don’t necessarily know whether or not she’s wearing lace underwear right now—she either could or couldn’t be, both possibilities exist and don’t exist at the same time. I happily know which it is._

He almost couldn’t contain his grin.

Scully had continued her lecture, but it was only a few minutes until she interrupted herself once more.

“Yes, Howard?” The twenty-something year old KID had his hand raised again. Her voice was sweet, encouraging—completely non-suggestive, but Mulder still felt his hackles raising with the guy commanding her attention. He didn’t hear the question nor Scully’s response this time, but he spent the remaining five minutes of class with his eyes boring a hole into the dude’s temple.

The students filed out and Mulder’s hunting glance caught good ol’ Howard exchanging a few sentences with Scully before he followed his peers out of the auditorium.

“Howard sure is an attentive student,” he later remarked in her office, not without a pointed glance as she finger-combed her hair with the visual aid of a compact mirror.

“He’s very studious,” she said smoothly, and he could hear the smile in her voice. She’d never admit it, but he knew she loved it when he was jealous - especially when they both knew he had no reason to be. Especially not with the way their relationship was flourishing again - perhaps better than it ever had before.

“I would be too, if you were my professor,” he quipped, drawing close to her, “He’s a bit TOO studious, in my expert opinion.”

He slid his hands around her slender waist, drawing as close as he could to her and pinning her between his body and the desk. She wriggled a bit but maintained her daring eye contact. He loved it—she never backed down.

“So Mulder, if you’re not delivering my lunch, what other purpose have you to visit me while I’m in class, besides show your very commanding alpha male tendencies?”

He growled playfully.

“Just appreciating the hell out of you,” he answered honestly, as he began to gently finger the clasp at the front of her slacks.


	5. For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mulder erotically finger fucking Scully while talking dirty to her

Their relationship has always been a pendulum of give and take, a beautifully symbiotic exchange. It’s rare that one will receive without immediately moving to return the gift—and they both like it that way. Tonight though, despite being wired from three autopsies and a last-minute report that took until 2AM to complete, her body needs sleep. She wants to make love with him, knowing the comfort and the peace that it will bring, but she can barely stumble into bed beside him, let alone climb into his lap.

She settles for allowing him to cradle her into his side and he tenderly brushes her hair aside as her head sinks into her pillow. His arms curl around her, almost rocking her as they snuggle into the mattress. She doesn’t know if it’s simply because she’s tired, but his compassion for her exhaustion hits her to the core, and she almost has to fight a few tears.

“You’re so warm,” he observes with relish. Her eyes are heavy and it feels so good just to lay here in the darkness, surrounded by pillows and fluffy down and the pliant granite that is the body of the man whom she now accepts is the love of her life.

She’s just enjoying the sensation of his legs aligned with the shorter length of her own, when his hand softly presses against her belly, with obvious intent to move lower. She stirs her hips, enjoying the touch but knowing she will be unable to reciprocate tonight.

“Mulder, I can’t,” she says with true regret, “I’m too tired, it’s not fair to you.”

“Shhshhshh…” he murmurs into the hair swirling against her temple, “Just relax. Let me.”

His fingers fumble and burrow beneath the thin band of her panties, lightly toying with the crisp hair beneath the material. The air that swirls into her lungs feels fresh and sustaining and she sinks deeper into his arms, enjoying his rhythmic, almost exploratory touch. She’s surrounded by him in every way, and the darkness and his heat make her feel secure in a manner she never imagined possible.

“Mm, you smell good,” he notes, nuzzling his nose into the sweep of her tousled hair. He’s not doing anything, just lightly combing his fingers through her pubic hair, and she feels the tingle of arousal in her womb. Sleepily she smiles, pushing her pelvis into his hand as encouragement.

“You want me to touch you, Scully?” he croons into her ear, “You want me to pet you? You want me to stroke you until you melt? Would you like that?” Her response is a breathy moan and she feels her arousal buzz for real this time. He’s grown well-acquainted enough with her body to know that a direct touch is not what’s required right now, instead lightly running his finger up and down the length of her silky labia.

“Mm,” she shivers as he gently dips a probing fingertip into her opening, and she can feel that she’s already growing wet. Jesus, they’re both still completely clothed and already her blood is growing thick and heavy within her veins. Deftly he uses one hand to spread her open, gently pressing two fingers into a “v” to rest on either side of her clit.

“You feel like velvet,” his voice is like gravel and she feels it vibrating in her nipples, “Soft, warm velvet.”

She whimpers as he presses his free hand gently against the curve of her throat, tilting her head back so he can kiss her. Despite his commanding position and the words that completely envelop her, his touch is soothing, almost worshipful. His thumb softly traces the small hill of her larynx, adding to the ultra sensitive sensation growing all over her skin.

“Oh, Mulder…” she breathes, pressing her ass into the cradle of his hips, feeling the ridge of his burgeoning erection. Her natural slickness is increasing, and now his two fingers are effortlessly slipping back and forth against the sides of her clit. Any moment now she’s going to begin thrusting against his hand. His breath is rushed behind her ear and she closes her eyes, wanting to completely lose herself in this pleasure and his warmth.

As his fingers effortlessly move to slide inside her she moans, and there it is, the small arch of her back. This is heaven.

“I love that I can touch you,” he whispers hoarsely, “I love that you let me see what I do to you, Scully. You’re so wet, so swollen…God, I could do this for-fucking-ever…just fuck you all the time, make you come all the time…”

She begins to whimper and shudder, all focus settled completely on the way he rubs two circles over her clit, then slides those same two fingers deep inside her, completing the cycle with several thrusts, punctuated by a curl that goes straight to her toes. Circle circle slide, thrust, thrust, thrust, curl, and begin again. She’s so wet there’s almost no friction and there’s now a steady stream of high pitched sighs issuing from her slackened mouth.

What does her in is when he finally, FINALLY gently presses her tiny swollen nub between his thumb and forefinger right as he pushes the bulge in his sweatpants into the line of her ass. With the loudest cry of pleasure she has ever made she comes, feeling something hot and wet mark the inside of her thigh. Black spots glitter across what little she can see in the darkness and if she could speak, she’d tell Mulder that this is what it must feel like to glow.

The next thing she’s aware of is that she’s shivering as she comes down, feeling his hand slowly running a tissue from the nightstand between her soaked thighs.

“Woah,” she hears him chuckle breathlessly, “I’ve never seen that happen before.” It takes her a moment before it registers.

“Oh, my gosh—” she gasps weakly, covering her eyes as both shyness and a strange kind of delight washes over her—that had been a first for her.

He laughs, kissing her forehead before disposing of the tissue and helping her slide her panties back up her hips. She still can barely move, only being of slight help to him as he pulls her sweatpants into place.

“Come here,” he rumbles softly before she even has a chance to lament that his erection remains ignored and neglected, “Come right here.”

He helps her turn so that they’re no longer spooning but that her head and chest rest atop his torso. His arms are around her again, and she wonders if this is what it’s like to be in hibernation—bundled and warm and safe.

“Mulder,” she slurs simply, wanting to say everything to him that her heart and soul encompasses and having neither the strength nor the ability to do so. She prays that by some miracle that he comprehends, just by the utterance of his name alone.

“Scully,” he responds, and as she drops into the deepness of sleep, she knows he understands.


	6. The Trial of Womankind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully + World's worst period + Nurse Mulder + one shitty queen sized bed in their motel room

You feeling any better, Scully? Detective Cummings was remarkably disappointed you couldn’t get down to the scene this morning. I think he likes you.”

“Detective Cummings can kiss my ass,” Scully grumbled as her partner let himself into the motel room, stepping over to where she lay curled on her side atop the bed, “I feel awful and that’s the only reason I’m laying on this damn crusty coverlet.”

He sat down beside her, adjusting the fleece blanket she had wrapped around her prone form.

“I’ve heard orgasms help with cramps,” he grinned playfully, squeezing her covered hip. She sighed mournfully.

“I never want to have sex again,” she said pitifully, “I just want to take my ovaries out, set them on the opposite side of the room for a while until they decide to calm down, and then maybe I’ll put them back in.”

Mulder chuckled despite himself.

“Spoken like a true forensic pathologist,” he teased.

“It’s not funny, Mulder. I’m dying.”

Her response was delivered with a frown and a pout. His face softened and he brushed her hair away from her face.

“Well, the good news is I’m free for the rest of the day, lab results won’t come in until tomorrow morning. Until then I’m decreeing myself your personal period assistant. You’re getting spoiled, and all you have to do is feel better, okay?”

“…okay.”

“Atta girl. Hot water bottle?”

“Yes, please.”

“Peppermint tea? Some Aleve? Would you like a teddy bear to snuggle?”

“I hate you, Mulder. Can’t let a woman in pain suffer in peace, can you?”

He chuckled, pressing a very light kiss on her cheek and squeezing her clammy hand. He got up, heading towards the kitchenette to boil some water.

“Mulder?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a good boyfriend.”


	7. Another Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Will you please write an AU where Mulder and Scully got to keep William and Scully tells Mulder she's pregnant again?

“Is he down?” she asks softly from her makeshift den of pillows and rumpled sheets. It’s been a long day, and both of them will be glad for some uninterrupted sleep.

“He is,” he responds, flopping down beside her and flinging an arm across her back, “I think your mom wore him out today, he even got into his pajamas without a fuss.”

“Mmhe’s a good boy,” Scully murmurs, grasping the hand of the arm wrapped around her and bringing it up to kiss his knuckles. He nudges her so she turns and cuddles into his arms. Soft, lazy kisses commence, not existing as a means to an end but simply because they’ve finally been allowed to luxuriate in each other’s closeness. She makes little contented noises as Mulder runs his hands up and down her back.

“Mulder?”

“Mm hm?”

“You’re a good father.”

He dips his head with shy pride, and she brushes the thick hair away from his forehead. He feels a slight bit of tension in her; not harmful, but her demeanor seems different tonight. He nuzzles her temple, figuring she’s just tired.

“Mulder, I went to see the doctor last week.”

His heart freezes and he frantically searches her face, only slightly heartened when she gently cups his jaw in her palm.

“No, no…” she soothes, “Nothing bad, I promise. But I…I can’t believe I’m saying this, I don’t know how…”

“What?” his relief is clear but the tension in his body still remains. He won’t be able to rest until she reveals what’s on her mind. Her eyes are full of barely suppressed joy and a small touch of apprehension.

“Mulder, I’m…I’m pregnant again.”

His laugh of joy immediately wakes their toddler, who is soothed with a tiny snack and ten minutes of cuddling with his parents. Every few minutes Mulder beams at Scully over his son’s head and she flushes with pleasure.


	8. Never Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I know this is ridiculous and will probably count as AU/suspend your disbelief...but could you write a smut fic wherein Scully has has had sexual partners but has never had an orgasm and Mulder gives her her first? 
> 
> Combining with this Prompt: HC: Scully isn’t a virgin but she’s never had an orgasm at the hand of another. Until Mulder.

The first time he had sex with Scully had been everything he’d ever hoped for and wanted. It was soft, it was passionate, it was vigorous, it was gentle, it was loving, and it felt better than anything he had ever known in his previously lonely life. As far as he could tell, it had been good for her too, if her cries and the giant beaming smile on her face as she throatily called out his name had been anything to go by.

So now he couldn’t understand why she was lying on her back, her hands covering her face as she shivered with gentle sobs. She didn’t seem upset, as she hadn’t moved away from his concerned touch or left the bed. She was just…crying softly. Still alarmed, he clasped her slender wrist, his thumb skating back and forth over her finely-built tendons.

“Scully?” he asked, finally succeeding in pulling her hands away from her tear tracked face. Her face was flushed and he had never seen her eyes so bright and alert—she didn’t look upset. Heartened, he tried again.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he said softly, brushing the tear- and sweat-dampened hair from her sweet face. She shuddered, swiping her fingers across her cheekbones and sniffling hard. She smiled at him, and it was the same open, beaming grin he had glimpsed as she came not two minutes before.

“Never…” she whispered, and to his dismay it almost seemed as though she was about to tear up again.

“What?” He said quickly, wanting to get to the bottom of this before she began to cry once more, “Never what? What, Scully?” She reached out to him, cupping his face before tracing the line of his eyebrows with her thumbs. Her touch was loving and sincere and it warmed his entire body.

“I’ve never…god, Mulder—I’ve never come during intercourse before. Ever.”

There was a beat, a momentary pause as he digested this information.

“…what?” It was the only response he had.

“It’s always been a problem for me, and while I hated that I couldn’t let go, I had just accepted the fact that it couldn’t happen for me—not with someone else.” Her eyes glimmered and she pressed her mouth briefly to his.

“I should have known you’d manage to get past that barrier without even trying. And it was so good.”

He couldn’t help but grin, happy and proud and grateful as he trailed soft kisses down the line of her jaw and neck. She wriggled happily beneath him.

“Scully?” he murmured into her skin.

“Mm?”

“How ‘bout I make up for all those times you’ve missed before?”


	9. Pilot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pilot smut?

“I need you to look at something.”

The worried words rang in his ears now as he felt the warmth of her pussy tighten around his length. He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment and remembering the way her red robe had glided down the length of her back, all her peaks and valleys a beautiful relief in the light of the lone candle he held. It had proven to be too much, and after establishing that the marks were harmless they had fallen together. One relieved hug turned into a tentative kiss, then a passionate one, and then they were naked and rutting frantically together on his motel bed.

He reminded himself that he barely knew this stranger–she could mean the complete ruination of everything he had worked for in his short life. He wasn’t supposed to even like her, let alone be intimate with her. Yet all he wanted to do now was kiss her and love her, and the whimpering sounds she was making as she thrust her hips against his were going to do him in…

“Oh God, Fox–”

Startled, he glanced up, looking at the tendon-lined curve of her milky neck. Her breasts were small but firm, rivers of blue veins mapping the extent of her fine-boned ribs. She was breathtaking.

 _No,_ he thought, _I may be buried to the hilt inside her, but we can’t have that…she’s different, she’s not like the others._

“Not Fox,” he grunted, thrusting up into her as she gripped his shoulders.

“What?”

“Mulder,” he said firmly, growling as she wiggled her hips in his hands, “I like the way you say it. Call me Mulder.”

“Mulder, God–Muldermuldermulder…”

With a soft cry she felt back against his legs, her hand clumsily slipping between them to rub at herself. The sight of her orgasm triggered his and he called out, frantically thrusting against her as their voices laced together in sounds of pleasure.

Afterwards she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her hair fluffed and soft against his cheek. The rain drummed softly against the window. He sighed, running his hands up and down her smooth back.

“I love you,” she breathed. He chuckled.

“Would you have said that?” He felt her smile against his chest and she lifted her head to look at him, her chin resting lightly on his pectoral muscle. She had a few more wrinkles and her face was a touch more defined, but she looked just as beautiful as she had that rainy night in Oregon. He wondered if given the chance they really would have slept together that first night, but every time he considered it, he was glad for the path they had taken.

“Definitely not,” she grinned, “However much your boyish good looks then might have inspired those words.”

“Am I not boyishly good looking anymore?”

“No. Now you’re ruggedly handsome. I like that better.”

He smiled, kissing her temple and she snuggled down again against his chest. He draped the robe she had bought that afternoon–the one that started this whole repurposed reenactment–over the soft hill of her ass and drew his arms back around her. She sighed contentedly.

“Scully?”

“Yes, Mulder.”

“Your boyish good looks inspire those words in me too.”

His laugh quickly joined hers.


	10. I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: i like to think that every time they have sex scully makes mulder say "i love you" before they get started

“Please say it to me,” her voice is tight and weak. They’re both fully dressed, Scully nestled on Mulder’s lap on his beloved couch on a Thursday night.

“Say what to you?”

She moans, her eyes slipping shut as he runs his hands up her back to tangle in her hair.

“That you love me,” she sighs, nuzzling his cheekbone.

“You know I do,” he counters. She groans in frustration.

“Please say it,” she begs softly, “I love it when you tell me. Every time, Mulder…you don’t know what it does to me…”

He smiles at her, marveling at the fact that a woman who has to be all but cornered to express her feelings in any other circumstance adores being told that she’s loved. Or maybe she just likes it coming from him; he hopes and suspects that’s the case.

He whispers it as he kisses her neck. He mumbles it as he presses his face between her breasts, and groans it when she grinds her center against his crotch.

And she is satisfied.


	11. Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you write Mulder's train of thought as he goes down on scully?

_Yeah, you know what’s coming, don’t you Scully? I can see it in your face, in the flush on your chest. You know what I’m going to do with my mouth, don’t you sweetheart? You love it, don’t you? Not half as much as I love doing it, I’ll bet._

_Mmm you wore the black ones today. I love those…did you know that, Scully? Did you slip those on this morning wondering if tonight I’d see them? Are you thinking about that right now as I slide them down your legs? Yeah, good girl, lift your hips for me…they’ll come off easier that way._

_So pretty. So fucking pretty, I can’t believe that word crosses my mind every time I look at that pretty pussy. Pretty auburn. Pretty Scully. I can see what you’re feeling, Scully…those pretty little hips don’t lie._

_Ooo, sweetheart you’re so slick. You’ve been wanting this almost as bad as me, haven’t you? I heard that little sigh…I saw that shy little smile._

_Yeah, groan for me baby…let me know how it feels. God, you taste like chocolate and smoke…you’re so wet, so smooth…I swear to god if you say my name like that one more time I’m gonna come and I’ll be damned if that happens before I finish you. Fuck, you taste good…can’t get enough. Keep moaning sweetheart, let me know how it feels. So soft, so wet…Jesus, I’m humping the damn bed because I’m getting off on getting you off…love seeing you like this…God Scully come for me, I love you…I love watching you come, come on baby, let it all out, let go, let go, God you’re so beautiful, come for me, Scully, you’re such a good girl…such a good girl…breathe…I’ve got you, I’m here…give me your hand, I’m right here…come here…I love you…love you, Scully…_

_Scully–oh God…I guess it’s my turn._


	12. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fic prompt if you still do them I certainly hope so because I love your writing: Scully making Mulder dominate her because she's the responsible one all the time and sick of it...

_It’s always about trust,_ she told you once.

It sounds like a cliché really: strong, powerful woman seeks domination in bed. Ya-da-ya-da. But you know Scully, and Scully is not a cliché. 

It’s a lot of pressure, you’ll admit. You’ve always had the fear of hurting her even before you two were intimate, and now even more so, because Dana Scully has entrusted you with her most vulnerable side.

 _I love when you take over…_ she confessed softly another time, _it helps me let go._

Things started slow at first, but the more you got used to the idea that this was what she wanted, you grew to like it. You enjoy the fact that she entrusts you to give her the freedom she craves. The sound she made when you once bit into her shoulder and growled “You belong to me” still colors your day dreams.

You love the glimmer in her eyes when you hold her hands above her head and tell her to keep them there. You worship the way her hips roll when you whisper what you’re going to do to her. You ache for the sound of her rhythmic whimpers when you cover her from behind and grip her ass.

Best of all you love how she curls into your arms at the end: relaxed, open, completely vulnerable—because she knows she can trust you.

It’s always about trust. And you will never abuse it.


	13. Multi-tasking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: can you write a multi-tasking mulder pls? taking scully fr behind while rubbing her folds, pinching her nips and kissing her under the shower

“Mulder, please…” she whispers, and he can hear the tears of desire and desperation in her voice, “Inside me…please…”

The shower is drenching them all over, pounding into his back as he glides the tip of his shaft back and forth against her swollen labia, enjoying the way her shoulders bunch beneath his chest. Her smooth ass fits perfectly into the angle of his hips and her skin is shiny from soap and pink from arousal. He reaches around her hip, gently brushing his fingertips against her curls to make her twitch. She can’t wait any longer and neither can he.

“UnggScull…” he can’t help but groan as he finally slips deep into her, feeling her sensitive tissue accept and acclimate to him. He loves this moment, because he imagines that her body recognizes his body and recognizes the pleasure its about to receive. He lives to give her this pleasure; he lives to make her feel good and he’s tried to show that as often as he can since they’ve come together.

Even as he’s rhythmically thrusting into her, he can’t resist touching the rest of her body, running his hands up and down her arms, thrumming his thumbs against the bumps of her ribs, nibbling the back of her neck. He relishes the sounds she makes as he reaches in front of her again, his hand brushing pleasantly against his cock as he rubs her smoothly.

Realizing he’s been neglecting her beautiful breasts he cups them, gently pinching her nipples and is surprised when she lets out a little drawn out, high-pitched groan, grinding her hips back against him.

“Mulder, I’m—ah!” she makes an adorable yelp and he feels the rapid-fire contractions that signal her orgasm. He manages to turn her just enough so that he can kiss her right at the peak of her pleasure, her breath coming out in noisy, frantic pants though her nose. He hears a high pitched wail through her clenched teeth, echoing through the water dashing ceaselessly around them.

“Oh, God, Mulder…” she moans when he finally releases her lips, “You too, I want you with me…”

He glances down just as his shaft glides into her again and the sudden reminder that he’s inside _his Scully_ is the catalyst. He wraps himself tightly around her as he explodes, growling out her name as she shudders in his arms. They sink weakly to the floor of the shower, neither caring that they’re out of hot water or that they’re both shivering from aftershocks and cold. He sits cross-legged and she crawls wordlessly into his lap.

“So…give me twenty minutes,” he pants, “We get a bedtime snack and do this again?”

The response he gets is a sleepy giggle and a kiss that is drenched in lukewarm water.


	14. Extra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully gets off by sliding back and forth on Mulder's penis.

“Shit, Scully…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” He’s on his back, gasping and looking truly heartbroken, though he honestly has no need to be. He’s practically made it his life’s mission to make sure she finishes first every damn time they have sex. While he’s usually successful, she has no desire to hold it against him when he isn’t.

Honestly, he’s the only lover she’s had where she finds it quite flattering when he comes first…almost as if he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s all right, Mulder,” she breathes, still straddling him. She presses herself against his spent cock, slick with their fluids and still warm from being inside her. The smooth texture feels incredible pressed to her slick folds and she moans, softly palming her breasts as she bucks against him. She had been close before, and glancing down to see Mulder’s look of wonder as she slides back and forth on him sends her streaking down to completion before she can even whimper, “Oh god, Mulder!”

She has just enough control to fall forward on her forearms as she buries her face in his neck, gasping wildly. He pushes her back slightly as she trembles, brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her cheeks and quivering mouth. The words he whispers give her chills and she cuddles herself into him.

“So independent,” he chuckles weakly, resting his hand on her sweaty back.

“No,” she mumbles into his shoulder, “It’s you.”


	15. As it Should Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The morning after their first night together and Maggie accidentally walks in on them.

Maggie arrived at her daughter’s apartment earlier than she had initially intended, but knowing Dana, she had probably been up for at least an hour already. A breakfast get-together had been long overdue, owing to the fact that her daughter and her unusual but endearing partner had been traveling extensively for their work. Maggie missed her youngest girl, and was hoping to ask her over for a weekend stay sometime—Fox too, if he wanted to come along.

She let herself in, surprised to find the apartment still gray and cool with sleep. A crumpled cardigan rested on the couch seat, but other than that, nothing seemed amiss or disturbed. Dana’s keys and wallet were still resting on the counter.

Maggie made her way quietly to Dana’s bedroom and peeked past the partially closed doorway, reassured when she recognized the fluffed waves of her daughter’s hair amidst the sheets.

What she hadn’t expected to see was Fox in the bed with her. He was propped up against the headboard, obviously having been awake for some time. Dana’s head was nestled on his shoulder and her curled hand rested atop his chest; she was still fast asleep, a look of utter peace on her face. Fox’s expression as he watched her daughter sleep took Maggie’s breath away—she’d never seen such a look of quiet, raw devotion, not even from her late husband. Her breath caught and Fox looked up, his face when he recognized her something akin to sheer, absolute panic.

“Shh, shh!” Maggie gestured dismissively to him from the doorway, “I’ll walk around the block and come back.”

She quietly backed out of the room, but not before fiercely whispering to the still speechless young man: “Invite yourself this morning.”

As she made her way down the hallway, she heard Dana’s groggy shout.

“Mulder, oh my god—my mother’s supposed to be here in fifteen minutes!”


	16. Hers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: At the FBI ball Diana arrives and doesn't deal with seeing mulder with scully very well.Mulder makes it obvious to her that he loves scully.

Scully has never laughed as much as this in all the time you’ve known her. It’s a beautiful sound, and combined with the image of her holding a bubbly glass in her navy gown and elegant bare shoulders, well…you wish you could end the night by making her laugh with your head between her legs.

Probably not tonight, likely not tomorrow, but someday, you hope. Someday you’ll be able to make her as happy every day in your company as she seems right now. You love her, and eventually you will be able to show her that.

Scully has stopped laughing suddenly, and you will not have that. Her face has gone somber, composed, unreadable. She still has elegant shoulders but her eyes are dark, even as she tries to hide her displeasure. You turn to see your past has come up behind you, resting a possessive hand on your shoulder.

“Fox,” a soft voice purrs—a voice that use to give you goosebumps of pleasure. Now it makes you bristle.

“Diana.”

“You usually don’t come to things like this, I’m surprised to see you.”

Her hand is still on your shoulder, and you know she wants to pull you away. To talk. To sink her teeth into the back of your neck and reclaim you.

Scully will let you go without a fuss, and you love her for it. But you can see in her eyes that you leaving her side will crush her, and that she will hate herself for it.

Taking a chance you slide your arm around the cool material sheathing Scully’s waist. Despite your discomfort with the situation you feel your groin tingle when you are once again reminded how small and slender she is, how good she feels against your side. You know she is surprised but she willingly leans against you, and you’re certain her eyes now hold a flame of possessiveness. Good. You want to belong to Scully.

You make a weak excuse—something about you and Scully wanting to get something to eat—but it’s enough. The hand (read: claw) retreats from your shoulder, and the eyes of your past cloud over, her face hardening. She murmurs something and leaves, and you feel a small twinge of regret—not for your decision, but for the decisions of your past.

You look back down and see the softest look on your partner’s face. It’s full of hope and affection and pride and your heart swells as you squeeze her gently. Probably not tonight, likely not tomorrow, but someday—you’re certain.


	17. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you please write something where m&s are having missionary sex - it's so good that Mulder can never get deep enough, it's easy and languid but also hard and unbelievably hot?

Two times previous Dana Scully had known happiness so acute she cried. The first time was when she was twelve, when her father had unexpectedly turned up for her birthday when he was supposed to be abroad. The second was being told her cancer was in remission.

Tonight is the third occurrence in her life as Mulder cradles her body beneath his, rocking against her in the sweetest, slowest rhythm she’s ever experienced. As she gives into the pleasure, she can feel the salty fluid slide down her temples.

“You okay, Scully?” his voice is warm in her hair. He knows she’s not upset, but the tears are new and it’s in his nature to reach out.

“Yes,” she breaths, closing her eyes with a deep inhale just as he presses his pubic bone against her clit, “Yessss…”

It’s the fifth time they’ve come together, and it’s different. The previous times have been no less fulfilling, no less passionate, but they were of the moment; snatches of togetherness gathered during busy schedules, stressful traveling, and messy hotel rooms. Tonight they have time. They’re in her bed, amidst warmth and familiarity, and Mulder knows what it means to her.

“All night,” he had promised, following it up with a playful leer, “Or until one of us is dropping off.”

Scully had shivered.

He’s true to his word, making Scully believe in the possibility that maybe there is such a thing as perfect sex. His touch, his kiss, his body—all of it creates sensations she never fully believed in. And now that she’s had it, she’ll never be satisfied with one time.

“Ugh, I can’t…” his voice carries the tone of agony, but she knows better, “I can’t get close enough to you.” He buries his face in her neck, almost angrily pushing his chest into hers with a sob-inducing thrust. She gasps as he reaches the spot he discovered the third time, which took place in the bathroom of a 24-hour Subway.

“Deeper, Mulder,” she requests tremulously, “Harder. Please.”

He whines deep in his throat in desperation and pleasure, digging his knees into the mattress in an attempt to do as she asks, but it’s still not enough. Anything less than melding completely into each other will never be enough. He thrusts hard and she bumps her head softly against the headboard and she feels an erotic shudder move through her entire body. His hands are in her hair, his breath hot against her face.

“I can’t get deep enough,” he gasps, “You feel so good, Scully…so fucking good…I can’t get enough of you.”

“Don’t,” she gasps right back, “I don’t ever want you to.”

“What do you need?” he asks, “Tell me what you need, baby—I want this to be perfect for you.”

She scoots her groin closer to the cradle of his hips and he sits back on his calves, her ass resting on the tops of his thighs. He can’t thrust from this angle but it presses his shaft right against the front wall of her vagina, and even that simple contact makes her moan softly deep in her throat. Before she can even express what she wants he catches on, gently petting her curls away and using his thumbs to stroke her rhythmically. She was close before, and the arousing ache of him inside of her combined with the feel of him steadily stroking her is going to be her undoing.

“It feels so good, Mulder,” she dry sobs, “I’m gonna…c…oh, GOD!”

He manages to make one tiny little thrust from his limiting position, and it’s enough—she crumbles, her hips thrashing as she throatily calls out his name, the lamp on the nightstand causing small explosions behind her eyelids. She cries out, dimly aware the whole time of his hands soothingly drifting over her stomach and breasts as she loses herself. It’s all so, so good…

When she finally drifts back they’re back in their original position, Mulder over her and smiling as he brushes her hair away from her flushed face.

“Did you?” she asks softly. He jerks his head once to indicate no.

“I meant what I said earlier—and it seems like neither of us has dropped off yet,” he grins.


	18. Office Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can you do a fic about Scully going down on Mulder in the office while he's on an important work-related phone call?

“The 28th? No, we can’t do the 28th, Agent Scully and I are in Nebraska that week…”

He nudges the phone to a more secure position between his ear and shoulder as he flicks through the calendar his partner neatly organized. Scully is a few feet away, puttering around with the shelves, but he can’t quite see what she’s doing. Her back is to him, the sleek lines of her suit reminding him of how much he wants to run his hands down her naked back as he fucks her from behind. And then cuddle the fuck out of her. This morning wasn’t enough.

“The following month? Uh…let me look…”

He casually flips through the pages, but his eyes are still on Scully. He hears a sudden clunk as something drops from the shelf and she scuttles after it, dropping on her hands and knees to crawl beneath the desk. He moves to help her look for the object from his limited position, but he suddenly feels her hands on his shins, wordlessly telling him to stay still.

Before he can even warn her that this might not be a good idea (however much he’ll hate to say it), her hand is cupping him through his slacks, and she’s pulling down the tag of his zipper. He honestly can’t deal with this. Scully is going to go down on him in the middle of the day while he is on the phone with Sheriff What’s His Name from Whatever City, Whatever State, and he just might cry because this is Fantasy #48. They’d already taken care of Fantasy #56 and #38B last week. This woman is too good to him.

“Well it looks like we’re free on—ugh—!!”

He chokes right as he feels his partner’s little hand slip into the fly of his boxer briefs, her gentle touch clasping his delighted dick. He breathes noisily through his nose, clenching his molars as he wills himself to not make a sound.

“We…we might be able to fly down after the tenth…”

Oh God, she’s pulling him through the flap. He can feel her soft breath against his skin as she presses a kiss to the tip of his cock. For the life of him he can’t remember anyone ever kissing him there, and Scully does it every fucking time.

“Scootch up, Mulder,” he can hear her quiet request, and he obeys, pushing his hips forward so that he’s slouching in his chair. Right as he opens his mouth to speak, Scully’s own sweet mouth engulfs his length, bathing him in wet softness.

“Ffffffyeah, that whole weekend should…should be free,” he chokes out. He can feel her strong tongue flexing beneath his shaft as she takes more of him in, and his head thunks against the wall as he almost loses what little composure he has left.

“Weee might need a couple of guys for back up,” his voice is becoming steadily higher pitched, “That’s all, thou—though.”

Oh goddamn, her hands are back, one massaging his balls while the other grasps the base of him. Her mouth is relentless, and he knows he’s got about twenty seconds before this becomes unmistakable to the snuffly gentleman on the other end of the line.

“Okay, thanks sir, we’ll see you inJunethenhaveagoodday—” **click**—“Oh, _CHRIST_ , Scully—GOD!”

With a cry that hurts his throat he erupts, his back arching as he spurts into her sweet, warm, perfect mouth. She drags her hands up and down the length of his thighs, wordlessly encouraging him as his nails dig deeply into the arm rests of his chair. He wishes he could see her. Fuck, this is unbelievable—if anyone had ever told him six months ago that the love of his life would be giving him a blowjob under the desk, he would have thrown whatever object Scully had “dropped” at their head.

“Christ, Scully,” he sniffles, his eyes watering and his head pounding. By the time he’s able to see straight she’s already stood up, her hair mussed and her eyes glittering as she straightens out her blazer. She looks pleased with herself, almost giddy.

“I will get you for that,” he vows, “Tonight. You just wait.”

Scully huffs, a playful smirk on her face, “Promises, promises, Mulder.”

They both know he will.


	19. Office Bliss II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you pretty please do one where Mulder gets her back and goes down on her during a work related phone call?

“The marks are on the inside of the wrist…the right lunate and scaphoid bones.”

It takes her a good few moments to realize he’s under the damn desk, she is so focused on her phone conversation with the medical examiner. She feels his fingers gently brush her crotch, but before he even has a chance to push her skirt up further, she gasps, covering the receiver with her hand and rolling the chair back slightly.

“Mulder, no!” she hisses, and she knows she must look ridiculous, her skirt hiked halfway up her thighs as she white-knuckles a phone and barks at him under the desk. She immediately regrets scolding him, because he’s softly palming her knees and even in his stooped position she can see his smile. She reflects on the laughs and late-night-talks-while-snuggling and Chinese food they’ve shared over the past three weeks. He looks so happy kneeling in front of her, and a warm glow in her belly makes her turn back to the phone, wordlessly granting him permission to go back.

“Based on the patina I’m seeing, I don’t think that’s possible,” she’s impressed with how professional she still sounds, even as Mulder—still grinning happily—pushes her skirt up further to her waist and gently coaxes her to spread her legs. She feels his thumbs against the swollen flesh of her labia, softly opening her to his touch and attention.

“No panties, Scully…” he makes it sound like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever discovered. Part of her wants to save face and propriety, wants to tell him the oh-so-practical reason she didn’t wear underwear today, but she can’t…because she can’t remember why she didn’t wear underwear today. He’s pressing little kisses right against her mons and even that simple touch is so nice; it takes everything she has not to whimper.

“I……well we’ve seen something like this once before, about three years ago,” yeah, she definitely sounds breathless now. Dammit, “But the body was found in an area not consistent with that kind of rapid decay.”

“Mmm…” Another kiss. God, he always does this, he always makes contented little noises when he goes down on her, and it only riles her up further, only makes her wetter and hotter and _hornier_.

“Can you scootch forward for me, Scully?” he asks huskily. His breath against her pubic hair makes her shiver. Of course she will…of course she’ll scootch forward, she’ll do anything to feel that wonderful mouth right against her….oh, there it is. Nice. So, so, so, so, soooooo nice.

“I had an *shudder* idea that it might have something to do with *oh, _god_ * the batch of smashed car windows that…that the locals have been complaining about…”

He’s stroking her thighs too, the calluses on his fingertips giving her goosebumps. She swears she can feel how much he loves her with each lick of that wonderful tongue, every delicate suck of her clit. The idea that he’s doing this, that it might be obvious to the man on the phone, turns her on much more than it should.

“Well there was another case—”

**lick**

“—in 1995 that shows a—”

**nuzzle**

“—marked increase in…in—”

**kiss lick kiss**

“—increase in oh my god, oh my _GOD!_ ”

She loses it, the phone slipping from her useless grasp as she writhes in the chair, Mulder’s firm grip on her hips to keep her from sliding off the seat. She tries so hard to keep quiet (she doesn’t know why, the conversation is beyond salvaging at this point), but she ends up making a series of staccato gasps and a desperate moan that sounds like air being squeezed out of a balloon. It takes her almost a minute to realize Mulder has picked up the abandoned phone and is speaking into it.

“What? Yes, Agent Scully’s fine…her chair just fell out from underneath her.”

He grins devilishly at her and she tries to give him a dirty look, but fails miserably. Her muscles (including the ones in her face) are too limp to work.

“I’ll get you Mulder, I swear,” she promises.


	20. Once Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: They have a night of rough fucking, and wake up the next morning with scratches, bruises, and hickeys.

He wakes up stiff and achy, and for the first time in a long while, he feels good when he opens his eyes. He begins to shift to get out from beneath the covers when he becomes aware of the telltale ache in the small of his back and his arms, and a pleasant heaviness in his groin.

A soft whiff of a scent he’s grown to know very well and a slight variation in the dip of the bed beside him confirms it.

He glances over, and sees reddish blonde locks tangled and mussed across the pillow besides his. For a moment he’s stunned, as it takes a moment for him to recall the night before. She didn’t leave. She came to him last night–came to him and laughed with and loved him and on top of all that she’d stayed. The bed smells like her and like them and his eyes fill with warm tears because this is the happiest he’s ever been; even more so than the first time they made love. Six months ago he thought he’d never have this with her again. The gratitude threatens to choke him.

She stirs again and lets out a little sigh, full of sleep and sexual contentment and warmth. She used to make the noise so much; this morning it’s the first time he’s heard it in over a year. He can’t help himself and leans over, reaching out to play with her silky hair. Her eyes open.

“Sorry, I woke you,” he whispers.

“Don’t be, Mulder,” she sighs as she raises her arms above her head, giving him an ample (and likely intentional) view of her breasts. They’re smooth and full and marred by an angry mark that is definitely evidence of his mouth. There’s a bite mark on the flesh of her bicep and scratches on her ribs. He cringes in regret.

She looks at him and smiles, and he realizes this is the softest and most untroubled he’s ever seen her eyes in a while. She’s still so damn beautiful, even after all these years. She must notice his concerned look, because she glances at the bruise and leans over, kissing him with a gentleness that could knock him over.

“And definitely don’t be sorry for something like that,” she breathes, “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

He looks at her silently for clarification, and her eyes are suddenly brimming.

“There were months where I never saw the passion that made me love you so much,” she whispers, her voice husky with emotion, “To be working with you again, to be near you again and to see it slowly coming back…to have last night…it’s more than I could have hoped for.”

She reaches out and touches the small rows of scrapes that line his pectoral muscles. Her smile is shy and pleased–it’s the same smile he saw the morning after he had stroked her naked skin and watched her come for the first time many years ago.

“So you wouldn’t object to my maybe making a few more marks of that passion you profess to love so much?” He quips. She gives him the closed-lipped smile of delight that used to send shivers all over his body. Turns out it still does.

“Please do,” she breathes into their kiss.


	21. Office Walk In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: can u do a fic where diana walks in on mulder eating scully out in their office

Diana clutches the empty folder (she won’t be opening it) against her side as she takes the final few steps towards Fox’s office. She doesn’t knock when she reaches her destination, the two occupants don’t need privacy. The door is ajar anyway, and the last time she asked him (albeit subtly) about the nature of his relationship with that red headed woman, his sheepish, almost guilty response made her all the more determined.

He could still be hers, Diana is convinced of it. He’s always been a little weak, a little too easily manipulated. It was something she initially disliked about him when she first knew him, but it eventually paid off. His willingness to strip the flesh off his back for any amount of affection was something that had once given her endless pleasure, and she’s certain she’ll have him back by her side in no time. His little partner has no hold on him.

Her shock is great when instead of the shuffle of papers and droll conversation meeting her ears, there’s the breathy sound of a female sigh, followed by the contented groan of a male response. Against her better judgement she pushes the door open further, and is greeted by something she never expected to see.  
  
Fox is kneeling by his desk, hair mussed, suit rumpled. It takes her a moment to realize that his face is firmly planted between two slender, bare legs slung over his shoulders; the half naked body of a woman rests atop his desk, writhing and sighing in pleasure.  
  
Diana’s mouth drops open in shock and mild horror when she realizes he is going down on the red headed woman. In the middle of the day. In front of her.  
  
Every gasp, every moan that his partner expresses is met with an answering groan from Fox, and Diana can see him rubbing himself through his slacks. He loves this, she can see it in the blissed out expression on his face. Fox’s partner arches her back, one of her hands gently petting through his hair. Her other hand is clasped tightly in his as their combined grasp rests atop the desk—another point of connection during this intimacy.  
  
“Oh God, Mulder,” the woman breathes, “It’s so good…it’s so good…please don’t stop.”  
  
Fox’s response is a wordless groan of pleasure.

A small part of Diana, long since lost to her focuses and her causes, is touched by the tenderness she sees. This pleasure has not been demanded, not pulled from him as a show of power. It is being given purely for the joy of giving it, and the recipient will certainly return the gift to him. With her slackened mouth and flushed cheeks, there is a freedom in Fox’s partner’s face—a kind of open, raw beauty that Diana does not want to admit she can see.  
  
The ache of jealousy and regret boils low and hot, deep in Diana’s belly. To add to her horror, the red headed woman turns her head right at that moment and opens her pleasure-dazed eyes. There is a moment of shock, of an intense need for modesty at the dawn of another being’s presence, but then something in the blue eyes changes and becomes rebellious.   
  
Once again the red head strokes Fox’s hair. The motion is loving but no doubt possessive, meant purely for Diana. She even has the nerve to smile softly, almost drunkenly straight at her. The woman’s message is loud and clear.  
  
Diana steels her expression, hoping it will not betray the tightness in her throat and the ache behind her eyes. She shouldn’t be here. And anyway, she has an appointment to keep. Without a word she turns and strides down the hallway, closing her ears to the breathless noises that follow her.


	22. Daddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Will you write something about Scully calling Mulder daddy?

“Little minx,” he growls, but his voice is affectionate, even proud, “You love this, don’t you—you don’t even try to hide the fact that you love this.”

He lightly smacks her rump again and she gasps, her right fist lightly pounding the mattress once. Her hair is mussed and she’s been sighing non-stop for a good several seconds.

“You son of a bitch,” she moans. He can see the tiny dots of broken capillaries beneath the smooth white expanse of her ass. He feels regret for a moment that he’s marked her in such a way, but he feels her clench once around his rock solid erection. They’re playing. She loves this. And if she loves it, he loves it.

“Such a bad girl, such a naughty girl,” he grumbles, “If you’re going to be disrespectful like that, this is what you get.” He thrusts into her hard and then disengages, backing away from her with one more sound smack on her left butt cheek. She gasps with his absence.

“What? No, please fuck me…” she whimpers, “It aches…I want you back.”

He chuckles darkly.

“Not with that attitude,” he grumbles, “If you’re going to behave like that, you don’t get fucked.”

“I’ll be good,” she promises, “I swear, I won’t call you names again, just please come back.”

“No,” it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. He can see how open and swollen she is, on her hands and knees as she desperately tries to back into his hips. Her pussy presses again his dick like a hot, wet kiss and he shudders but manages to resist sliding back into her.

“Please, daddy…” she whines softly, her voice thready and weak, “Please fuck me…please…”

It might be because they’re playing, it might be because he’s never been able to resist her anything, but that word triggers him into absolute madness, and he’s back inside her before she can even gasp another word.

They’re both sweaty, sated, and giggling less than five minutes later.


	23. Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: mulder gets an insta-boner when scully calls him baby in a soft low voice

He’s delighted to see her bedroom light still on when he comes back from his late-night run, and takes extra care to take a speedy but thorough shower to join her before she curls up into sleep. They’ve been busy and separate today; he’d seen her for a total of fifteen minutes this morning before he had to rush off to a site and she had to hustle to the lab. He’s missed her, that goes without saying.

She has the grace to not even look annoyed when he pulls her issue of Popular Science out of her hands, snuggling against her with a noisy kiss against her neck. She smiles, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Mm, baby…you’re warm,” she murmurs happily. He smiles at the unusual endearment, and finds himself getting hard with the soft, low tone in her voice.

With no preamble she slips her hand into his sweats, and he realizes with no little pleasure that she’s clearly missed him today, too.

He looks down, seeing the contrast of her beautiful, elegant hand against the almost obscene need in his inflamed, aching flesh. He loves her hands—they’re steady, strong, and capable. But they’re also warm, soft, and unspeakably gentle.

“Scully…” he breathes, grateful that he can say her name the way he’s wanted to for years: with gratitude, reverence, and lust.

“I’m here, Mulder,” she whispers back, stroking him steadily and perfectly, “Let go.”

And he does.


	24. I Forgot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: scully catches mulder masterbating so she sits behind him, drapes her arms over his shoulders and runs her hands up and down his chest while talking dirty to him until he gets himself off

You feel his absence instantly the moment you open your eyes to the inky blackness of early morning. The sheets beside you are rumpled, still a little warm. He can’t be far, and you need water, anyway. Reuniting is thirsty business.  
  
You find him sitting silently on the couch, the heavy cadence of his breathing and the movement of his shoulder a dead giveaway of what he is doing. Part of you is a little hurt, as you read this self care as him not feeling able to reach out to you, but that disappointed thought withers away when you hear your name leak out from between his parted lips. He’s whimpering for you, and it makes your heart ache.  
  
His back stiffens when you touch his shoulder over the couch and he tries to stifle a gasp, gripping his penis firmer in his hand. You don’t move to stop him, you don’t want to interrupt him, you just want him to know you’re near. So instead you caress his bicep as you feel the muscles ripple and tense with his rhythmic movements.  
  
You’ve become more demonstrative recently, less emotionally constipated. You want to convince and remind him that you love him just as much now as you did before it all went to hell a year ago. Even when you were standing by the door with your suitcase preparing to walk out, you loved him more than anything. Now that you’re back, now that _he’s_ back, you want nothing more than to be close to him.

You lean over and slide your hands down his marvelously muscular chest. You’ve always loved his chest hair; it’s soft and there’s just enough of it for you to run your fingers through but not so much you can’t see his golden skin beneath. He shudders as you stroke his pecs, his hand still clenching his solid member.

“I’m here, Mulder,” you murmur into his skin, “I’m here and I love you…I’ve missed being close to you, missed seeing your body and your beautiful cock.”

“Scully…” he croaks.

“Stroke it for me, Mulder,” you croon, “Make yourself come, I want to see that.”  
  
Within minutes his head arches back as his hand rubs furiously, almost abusively, over his cock. The wet ribbons of his release splash across his thighs and his chest, and he shudders once, still gripping himself limply. You’re almost frightened to see that he’s crying.  
  
“I forget sometimes,” he sobs brokenly, “I woke up tonight and I just left the bed because I couldn’t bear to turn around and see if you were still there, it hurt too much…I’m afraid to remember that you’re back…”

It almost sounds like he’s asking your forgiveness for remembering a scar that you yourself are responsible for slashing into his chest. He’s been so lost; now that he’s healing, you’re only just now gathering how much he was lost.

“I’m here,” you murmur into the chilled shell of his ear, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I was gone, but I’m back. I’m right here with you. And I am never leaving us again.”

He shudders in your loose embrace, and you feel his sweaty hot palm cover your wrist, squeezing it harder than you’ve ever known him to touch you.

“You’re here…” he still sounds broken, but stronger; he breaks apart your clasped hands to press a trembling kiss to your palm. He whispers your given name between caresses, “Dana…Dana…Dana…”

You take your other hand, running it over and over through his mussed hair, soothing him and nurturing him like you have so many times before and didn’t once. You will never let him face this again; his doubting that he is worthy of love and contentment is something you will fight tooth and nail to completely destroy. You owe him that.

“I want to clean you up,” you say softly, “And let’s go back to bed.”

Even in the darkness, you can see the glow of incredulous happiness on his face as he turns to look at you, and it reflects in your heart.


	25. Pull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Will you write something about Mulder pulling Scully's hair?

“Mulder, you have to let me go,” she breathes, “I have to be up in four hours.”

“Mm hm…” his sound of placation is muffled by the moist skin of her neck. Her lips feel hot and swollen from his kisses and though they’ve been standing outside the locked door of her apartment for the better part of five minutes, she wants it to go on forever.

“I’ll miss you,” he grumbles. It didn’t need to be said, but it’s nice to hear anyway.

“I told you, Mulder—it’s a short conference and I don’t even have to be there for the whole time,” she says patiently, stifling a gasp when his tongue skates up the length of her jugular and his hands gently grasp her hips, “I’ll be gone two, three days at the most. I’m catching the first flight I can the last day I’m there.”

“Still miss you,” he mumbles, his lips now passing over her closed eyelids and the bridge of her nose. She never should have let him kiss her good night, now they’re edging on ten minutes in front of the locked door of her apartment.

“I’ll call you as soon as I check into my hotel,” she promises.

“And when you arrive at the convention center,” he nibbles her earlobe.

“And before dinner,” she also promises.

“And before you fall asleep at night,” he sighs against her cheek.

She’s certain she’s going to melt into the floor, it feels so good to be touched and held like this by him.

“One more Mulder, then you have to let me go,” she tries to sound firm and practical, but she really just wants to make out with him for the rest of the night.

His eyes and smile are sleepy and sweet as he bends down, molding his mouth perfectly over hers. He grips the hair at the back of her neck, pulling firmly as they kiss and it sends tingles straight down her spine to her clit. She moans once before their lips part. Three days will be torture.

“I’ll stop by and drop breakfast off for you before you leave,” he says, letting her go and heading down the hallway towards the elevator.

“You’ll make me miss my plane!” she half teases after him.

She gets an answering chuckle as he walks away.


	26. Satisfaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mulder and Scully have been lovers for awhile, but recently, Scully squirted, and Mulder makes it his mission to make it happen again.

 

“Scully, do I satisfy you sexually?”

She almost laughed and was at least partially successful at stifling the reaction. The question came out of nowhere while he was idly sitting at his desk and she was digging through some yet-to-be-organized files.

“I’m serious!” he insisted, sounding a bit surprised at her reaction.

“I know you are,” she said, “But why are you asking in the first place?” She noticed he looked a trifle uncomfortable and she stepped towards his line of sight, but he didn’t glance up, instead staring at a pen on his desk.

“Well you…” he still wouldn’t meet her eyes, looking almost ashamed, “I keep thinking back to a few nights ago when you…I haven’t been able to make you do it again.”

She remembered that night…oh, how she remembered that night. They had been working on separate cases in different states at the time, having to limit their interactions to phone conversations for a week. The hiatus had ended with hungry sex neither had experienced before. She had squirted and come so hard she had blacked out for a few seconds.

This time she did laugh, absolutely flabbergasted by his confession.

“Mulder, are you serious?” his look of dejection confirmed that he was, “Oh my God, Mulder—are you honestly judging how happy I am in our relationship based on something that rarely happens?”

He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

“That’s not much of a vote of confidence,” he looked positively put out now, and she hastily reached out to reassure him.

“Mulder,” she said softly, slipping her hand into his, “It’s wonderful and satisfying. It always has been and I have reasons to believe that it always will be. It doesn’t have to be perfect, mind-blowing sex every single time. Sometimes it’s nice just to be close to you after years of denying myself that pleasure.”

He still looked unconvinced.

“I promise you,” she whispered softly, “That whenever we are intimate, no matter what kind of sex we are having, I enjoy myself. Completely. I have no complaints on that front. And I don’t want you losing sight of your own enjoyment just because you think I’m lacking it. When I’m with you, I feel good—that’s the truth.”

He didn’t respond, but he squeezed her hand back and nodded once.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

She ran an affectionate hand through his hair, kissing the back of his head before stepping back to the file cabinet. She glanced over to see him nibbling on his thumbnail, gazing straight ahead. She knew that look.

“You’re still going to try, aren’t you?

She saw him give a little smile, finally looking at her.

“Hell yeah, I am,” he grinned.


	27. Working Out the Knots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you please write something from before mulder and scully have a sexual relationship, involving one of them giving the other a massage? For any reason. I live for the UST! (thank you xx)

“You okay?” He asked as he fumbled in his pocket for his hotel key card. Scully winced slightly, clearly uncomfortable as she adjusted her duffle more securely on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I think I wrenched something trying to sleep on the plane, my trapezius is killing me.”

Having found his key card, Mulder unlatched the door, gesturing for her to follow him into the hotel room.

“Come in, I might have something for that.” Before Scully had even had a chance to finish plopping her bag at the foot of the bed, Mulder had unzipped his own bag and was fishing through it furiously.

“I really don’t need it, Mulder,” she protested as he wrestled out a tube and walked back to where she had sat down on his hotel bed, “I’ll just take a hot shower tonight and try to sleep propped up.”

“Hush,” he responded, slipping off his jacket and loosely rolling up his shirt sleeves, “I have this stuff all the time for my knees, it should help your back as well. Take off your shirt.”

She must have been in a lot of pain, because it was only with slight hesitance that she stood up and unbuttoned her blazer and blouse, leaving on a silky maroon bra. He avoided looking at her, concentrating instead on unscrewing the cap and administering a generous blob of cream to his palm. 

“You wanna sit in front of me on the bed?”

His heart sank when he got a look at her from behind, an automatic reaction to the previously declining state of her health. In the handful of weeks since her remission her appetite had steadily returned, but he could still count her ribs and see the gentle bumps of her spine traversing down the column of her back.

 _She’s okay now_ , he reminded himself, rubbing the ointment on the palms of his hands as she got comfortable in front of him, _She’s getting healthy again._ Feeling as though it would be silly to warn her he was about to begin, he lightly laid his hands on her shoulders, sensing her tense and then relax beneath his palms.

This was the first time he had touched her bare back since that night in Oregon over four years ago. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten how warm her skin was. She was so smooth, creamy and soft and covered in a light brushing of peach freckles. He wanted to nibble her all over.

“Hurt?”

“Mm, no,” she said softly. When she offered no further statement, he began to run his thumbs against both trapezius muscles, hoping to warm them up before he made a real effort to knead the tension out of them. He was fascinated by the slope of her neck curving into her shoulder, the slight build of her biceps, the angle of her rib cage blending into her hips. The thought that she was beautiful glowed in his brain and he let it. She began asking questions about their assignment and he answered, gradually increasing the pressure of his fingers as she relaxed under his touch.

It seemed so natural, talking to her about the case as he massaged her back, noticing the small impressions on her shoulders from her bra straps, wanting to push them aside and kiss the red marks to make them better. He found himself wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her little body, pulling her against him and curling onto the bedspread for a warm nap. She was making little sounds now, ones he could recognize as content and he suddenly spotted goosebumps on her soft skin.

“Feels good, Mulder,” she breathed. He was certain he had been hard for a while now, but listening to her delivery of that statement made him aware of it.

“Good,” he responded, firmly rubbing the expanse of her back with the span of his hands, “Enjoying yourself?”

He had meant it teasingly, but she let out a moan that made his ears tingle and the hair on his thighs stand on end. God, she sounded exquisite. He wondered what she sounded like when she actually…oh, she was talking to him.

“Can I stay here?”

“What?”

“I really didn’t sleep well on the plane, and I’m comfortable here…can I sleep here for a bit?”

He had hoped the two of them could talk to the sheriff before they had unpacked and got something to eat, but he knew there was no way in hell he was going to refuse her some rest. Even if it was his room. He could dash out, talk to law enforcement, and get back with something for her to eat in less than two hours.

The soft smile she gave him when he said she could stay was in his dreams that night.


	28. One Night Stand...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Would you write a fic where mulder and scully sleep together (s7) and both end up thinking the other thought it was a kind of one night stand etc and it gets super angsty but then finally communicate and its all happy

_She won’t look at me this morning. Granted, I wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t in bed with me when I woke up, but God…last night was one of the few times I felt I did something right by her. I wasn’t expecting her to be gone when I woke up._

///

_He won’t look at me this morning. Stupid. I’m a stupid idiot. Why did I leave this morning? God, last night was one of the few things I’ve done right in a long time when it comes to Mulder…I wanted to stay, I wanted to wake up beside him. But I got overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to say. So I left._

///

_Did I give too much, too soon? I couldn’t stop touching her, I couldn’t stop kissing her, I couldn’t get CLOSE enough. She was real, she was with me, and she felt like mine, mine, MINE. I must have scared her away when I told her I loved her. Fucking idiot. Way to chase her away._

///

_Did I not give enough? God, I felt so treasured, I barely knew what to say, how to respond. I wanted to touch him everywhere all at once, I had a million thoughts in my head and I couldn’t say a damn word. When I heard him say he loved me, I choked. I was so happy I couldn’t breathe._

///

_Jesus, was it a one night stand for her? I hope not…Scully wouldn’t do that with me, she’s not like that. Would she? God, why won’t she look at me?_

///

_Jesus, what if it was only in the moment? I can’t imagine that, Mulder wouldn’t use me. He loves me, he said so…doesn’t he? God, why won’t he look at me?_

///

_I have to know. I’ll go with whatever makes her happy. I don’t care, if she just wants to be friends again I can live with that, I’ll give her whatever she wants. It’s going to kill me, but I have to know._

///

_This is killing me. I have to ask him, I have to know if he meant what he said last night. Maybe I can explain to him why I left, why I got so overwhelmed._

“Um, Scully—”

“Mulder, I—”

“You first.”

“No, go ahead.”

“I…I’m afraid to ask, but…about last night.”

“…Yes?”

“Was…was it…God, Scully—I’ll do whatever you want me to do, whatever will make you comfortable, but please tell me last night wasn’t just…”

“Mulder, no! No. I promise you it wasn’t.”

“Why did you—”

“Because it was all so much. I couldn’t…deal with it when I woke up, it was beyond what I could have imagined and it got the better of me. And then when you wouldn’t talk to me this morning…”

“I was trying to figure out what it meant to you. I was scared to ask.”

“It was everything to me, Mulder. Everything.”

“It was for me too.”

“I’m glad.”

“We need to get better at this talking thing, Scully.”

“Yes. Yes, we do. How about we practice tonight?”

“Tomorrow night, too?”

“And the night after that as well if you like, Mulder.”

“I’d like.”


	29. Sunscreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: If you're taking requests, how about Scully likes to sunbathe topless but Mulder is concerned about her fair skin and makes sure she's completely covered with sunscreen. 
> 
> Also combining with Prompt: Sex at Bahamas after IWTB.

“You’re going to get burnt,” he mumbles sleepily, cracking an eye open to peer at her from his lazy position, his back leaning against a sandy rock.

“Mm,” she lays beside him on her towel, her head even with his knee, “Too comfy to move.” He watches as she slowly raises her arms above her head, her ribs rising in sharp relief and the smooth flat of her belly sloping down into her black bikini bottoms. Her breasts are bare and smooth, her nipples pink and soft in the warmth of the sun. She sighs and shifts against her towel, keeping her arms raised and her torso elegantly stretched before him.

He knows she’s posing for his benefit, and he loves it. She’s fucking incredible… _this trip_ has been incredible. Relaxing and reconnecting with Scully has been something he’s been needing for months.

Wordlessly he fishes out the bottle of sunscreen lotion she has stashed in her little beach bag, squirting out a generous amount onto his palms. He rubs his hands together to warm it; as much as he’d love to hear Scully’s squeal, he doesn’t want the cold gel to spoil their warm, languid mood.

She doesn’t even open her eyes as he places his hands on her ribs, softly stroking them before running a hand over her firm stomach. As aloof as she appears, he knows she’s tense and waiting for him to touch her where they both want him to touch her, so he gently cups her breasts. She sighs and immediately he feels her nipples harden beneath his caress as he rubs his thumbs over them. She begins to wriggle her hips in a small circle, something she does in bed when she’s feeling really, really good.

Struck with sudden inspiration, he begins to tug at her bikini bottoms, surprised when her hand lands gently atop his.

“Mulder, someone might come!” her voice sounds stricken and he chuckles.

“You’re right, someone _is_ going to come,” he quips, pulling the thin black fabric down the elegant angle of one of her hips. He hears her whimper in consent and he pulls the rest of her clothing off, leaving her peach skin open and bare to the beach sky. The sunlight catches the neatly trimmed auburn hair between her legs and he momentarily wishes he were a painter so he could capture its fervent color. He rubs the rest of the lotion over her lower belly and thighs, making sure his hands are relatively clear of it by the time he circles her clit with his thumb. Her sigh is almost enough to make him come in his trunks.

He’s thoroughly convinced he could spend hours here, the salty sea air running its fingers through his hair as he runs his through Scully’s silky folds.

When she comes she’s smiling, her face a mixture of wonder and pleasure. This is all he needs, really. He doesn’t want anything else in this moment.


	30. Playful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I know that if you were willing to write something with either one of them using the sentence "come over here and make me!", like a little smut-filled little biscuit of a drabble, I would love it, as would everyone else! Your choice as to what he/she wants the other to come over here and make him/her do 😉

She’s being feisty tonight, and you love it. Already she’s thrown two croutons at you while you’re oh-so-seriously trying to make her a chicken dish because you remember once a few years ago that she said chicken was her favorite. You’re at the kitchen counter trying to get in touch with your inner Italian (which doesn’t exist) and she’s setting the table in an oversized sweatshirt and her lace black panties (you love the dichotomy). The salad’s already finished (hence her usage of croutons as cannons), and the two of you seem to have crossed into some territory between innocent taunting and blatant flirting.

The air simmers with the promise of the love you two are guaranteed to make tonight. Again.

“Scully, do you want to hand me a couple of those cherry tomatoes from the salad?” You want to make a little garnish atop her chicken dinner. She probably won’t even notice the extra touch, but the possibility that she might makes you smile.

“Nuh uh,” you can hear the smile in her voice. She’s standing by the table, her arms bracketing the little ramekin cradling the crimson fruit. She’s adorable and impossible.

“Come on, Scully—it’s almost ready, hand ‘em over.”

“Come over here and make me!”

You look over at her, standing there in her oversized sweatshirt and panties and nothing else, grinning at you while she hogs the stupid cherry tomatoes like the two of you are playing an inverse variation of hot potato. She looks so fucking happy, and you realize as you stand there staring at her giggly little face, you’re happy, too.

Maybe it’s the time of day. Maybe it’s the Joshua Redman ballad that’s softly crooning from your boombox. Maybe you’re just tired. Whatever the reason, you’re overcome with emotion and you stalk over to her in two strides, cupping her beautiful face in your hands and molding your mouth to hers. You feel her surprise in the slight stiffening of her body against yours, and then she relaxes, returning your gesture with her own enthusiasm. You shiver when you feel her fingers threading through the hair at the back of your skull.

“I’m home,” you sigh, pressing your forehead into the warm smoothness of her neck. She wriggles deeper into your embrace and you’re grateful for her silent understanding of your intense need to be emotional with her sometimes. The two of you bring so much contentment into the room now you hardly know what to do with it.

You shove the place mats and salad bowl aside (cherry tomatoes included!) and hoist her atop the table, delighting in her gasp and cry of “Mulder!”. Before she even has a chance to respond, you’ve slipped off her panties and dropped to your knees, burying your face between her legs with the same fervor you kissed her with not thirty seconds before. Scully would insist on the impossibility—knowledgeable woman and doctor that she is—that she tastes like candy, but as far as you’re concerned, she’s the most delectable and mouthwatering sugar-coated-something there is.

“Okay Mulder, you win,” she sighs as she falls back against the table. You’re already well aware of the fact.


	31. Insatiable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you do one where pregnant Scully wants sex all the time and Mulder is more than happy to oblige (AU obviously)? Thanks :-)

She’s exhausting him.

True, it’s in the best kind of manner possible, but he’s getting to the point where he can barely keep up.

Pre-pregnant Scully had no qualms about letting him know when she was in the mood, but she was subtle about it—as she was in a great many things. Sometimes it was her hand dragging down the length of his arm, her fingers suggestively playing along his skin. In other cases it was a spontaneous hug followed by the gentle thrust of her hips against his as they stood together. Sometimes it was even in the way she smiled, lingered a moment until his eyes met hers, and then she would walk away in the direction of the bedroom.

Pregnant Scully is a different matter entirely. Now that they’ve been mending their differences, she’s been what he can only describe as voracious. As of this week she’s given him two impromptu blow jobs, they’ve had sex in the shower three times, and every other day in between has been similarly occupied as well–sometimes more than once.

He loves it, he cherishes this closeness with her and the reflective changes in her body, but it’s a little overwhelming—especially for a man who is still healing, still figuring out what the hell happened to him, and still trying to understand his place in her life. And the life of their child.

When he awakes at 3AM to feel her soft hand slipping into his sweatpants to clasp his sensitized cock he yelps, reflexively grasping her wrist and chuckling, almost self-consciously.

“Scully!” he says dazily, “Sweetheart, what has gotten into you?”

“What??” she whines, her slightly distended stomach in no way detracting from how utterly delectable she looks right now, “I just want to make love…”

“I know, but…I mean, not that I don’t love it—I fucking am over the moon about it—it’s just not like you to be so blatant. You’ve been insatiable.”

She looks embarrassed now, almost stricken, as though she’s been caught doing something illicit in the middle of the day in their office. In front of Skinner.

He tries to be gentle, “Is everything okay? Is it the hormones, or something else?”

She looks away, and he’s instantly chagrined to see tears misting in her eyes. He moves to swipe them away, relieved when she leans her soft cheek into his palm.

“Not entirely,” she says softly, “I mean…yes, it’s partially the hormones, but…”

Her crying seems to grip her harder and she bows her head, her face crumpling with emotion he hasn’t seen since…well, since he woke up to her in the hospital a few weeks ago.

“What?” he softly encourages, cupping her face in both hands now. Although they’ve been talking more, he knows Scully won’t open up until she’s good and ready. It won’t do any good to push her, he discovered that quickly in their short stint of an intimate relationship before his disappearance. She’s been through just as much as he has, maybe more in some ways. There’s no way in hell he’s going to demand more than she’s able to give.

She clasps his wrists as he cradles her face, her thumbs softly running against the back of his hands. She’s so gentle.

“I’ve been…I’ve been trying so hard to convince myself that this is real,” she mumbles, her voice thready and wet with emotion,  "I keep waking up sometimes and I’m so afraid that this is all a dream. It’s been getting better, but there was such a chasm between us after you came back, it frightened me that I’d be losing you all over again in a different way…Sex has been the one way I feel…close to you again. Because when you’re inside me it’s as though no time has passed, it’s like it was before…before…“

She can’t finish her sentence but she doesn’t need to, and he wordlessly answers her call for intimacy, making promises with his lips, crafting apologies with his fingers, and soothing her with his breath. He lavishes endless attention to her body, ignoring her protests when she asks him to keep the light off and covering her smooth round belly with kisses. When she comes she cries harder, but he senses she is shedding tears of relief, not grief. 

Exhausted, they collapse together, and she falls into a dead sleep in his arms–the first time she has done so since his return. He feels a little lighter, a little more healed, and little more hopeful. They have many things yet to talk about, many challenges to face, but he knows tonight they have turned a corner.


	32. Insatiable II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I love your writing and art!! I was wondering if you think you would ever continue or write more in the universe where pregnant Scully was "using" sex with mulder to remind herself that he was there. I thought that it was super beautiful and yeah :) pretty much just wanted to see more haha

When he next opens his eyes, she’s dozing on her side, facing him. Her hand is resting on her slightly swollen belly, as though she’s already cradling the baby that has yet to be.

He gets a soft hello when she sees he’s awake.

Instead of grasping him, instead of smashing her lips desperately to his, she reaches out and drifts the pad of her thumb down one scar-roughened cheek, across his lips and down the other marked cheek. Her touch is a breathless whisper. He sees a glimpse of the Scully he knew before his disappearance: soft, content sensuality, no less passionate for its quietness.

“Asking yourself if this is real?” He asks, more than a little choked at the emotion in her eyes. Her smile softens but widens and she shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers, “Just remembering that it is.”


	33. The Unknown Ideal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: When they are out of state on assignments, Mulder reads random stuff to Scully until she falls asleep

“Read to me, Mulder?”

He looked at his partner from where he had been idly watching his nails tap on the steering wheel, the shadows from the moonlight gliding long, slender phalanges across his hands.

“Read to you? Scully we’re on a stakeout!” he almost chuckled.

“Mm hm. And she’s not going to show, you and I both know that. We’ve got fifteen minutes until we can leave and sleep. I want to hear your voice.”

All he had was an issue of Sports Illustrated knocking about in the trunk of their vehicle, and he very much doubted she wanted to hear any of _those_ “articles”.

“Unless you want me to read you the manual of a dented Dodge Neon, I ain’t got nothing for you, Scully,” he said regretfully.

“Back seat,” she mumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back against her headrest with her eyes closed. She already looked settled in for the winter.

Mulder glanced between the alley of their car seats, spotting a well-worn, sleeveless hardcover sitting on the back console. He wriggled his arm in and pulled it into his lap, opening to where a gift card had been inserted as a bookmark. He switched on the overhead light; Scully was right—no one was coming to see the yellow glow from the car.

“Where are you?”

“Just start at the top.”

He cleared his throat and began reading, albeit hesitantly:

“ _He pulled her around to face him, and then he held her and his mouth was on hers. She knew that every moment of seven years when she had wanted this and stopped the pain and thought she had won, was not passed, had never been stopped, had lived on, stored, adding hunger to hunger, and now she had to feel it all, the touch of his body, the answer and the waiting together._ ”

He glanced over at her to see her grinning, her eyes still closed.

“My, my Scully,” he marveled, “I never pegged you for an appreciator of such bawdy literature.”

“That book is a study in Objectivism and the unknown ideal, Mulder,” she protested, almost lazily, but he knew her better than that. Her jaw was jutting out in defiance, “The love affair is coincidental but no less influential.”

“Mm hm,” he responded, “And I suppose the fact that the heroine is a fatal force meant to destroy the main character but instead falls in love with him is coincidental?”

“Just read to me, dammit,” there was a smile in her voice now, “I had to sing to you two years ago, consider it returning the favor.”

“ _Men have been taught that the highest virtue is not to achieve, but to give. Yet one cannot give that which has not been created…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, a little bit of self-insertion—the book Mulder reads to her is my absolute favorite novel of all time. <3


	34. Frustrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hello! Wanted to know if you can write a fanfic where Scully is enormously pregnant and wants to have sex with Mulder but they do not find the right position and she frustrated and cries. Thank you

“Ah, Mulder!”

“Sorry,” he readjusts his hips for the third time, “Is that better?”

“Maybe, I don’t know if…ah! Mulder, no…stop, I can’t.”

“What’s the matter?” He pulls out immediately, alarmed by her sharp cry.

“I can’t, it hurts.”

She shifts away from him and flings the covers over herself, shielding her bare skin from his bewildered gaze. His erection fades from her obvious distress.

“My tits hurt, my back hurts, I feel and look like a blob fish, and I don’t even know why the hell you want to have sex with me, anyway. It’s like trying to make love to a bag full of garden rocks.”

Her voice is strained with tears, but he can’t resist one quip—"Did you just say tits, Scully?“

She lets out a soft chuff, so she’s not completely furious with him, but the sound is still wet. He lets her keep her back to him, she needs time to compose herself and he’s not going to take that away from her. She’s not mad at him, she’s frustrated and uncomfortable. Her behavior is tame compared to how he acts when he’s experiencing the same sensations.

“Scully,” he says softly, “I want you to listen to me.”

“If this is where you tell me I’m beautiful or I’m glowing or some shit like that, save it, Mulder. I don’t want to hear it. I feel awful.”

She’s definitely crying now, he can tell—her language and harsh tone is masking how deeply disappointed and embarrassed she is.

“You know me more than capable of being too honest and putting my foot in my mouth,” he teases, “I’m not going to lie to you.”

Gently he presses himself to her back again, wrapping his arms around her quivering body.

“Mulder,” she warns.

“Stop,” he admonishes, “I just want to be close to you, and I want you to listen to me. Stop pressuring yourself—you’re going through so much, you’ve already _been_ through so much. I don’t want you to worry about what I think, or about what your mother thinks, or about what anyone else thinks. I’m…I’m in awe of you, Scully. Life has dealt you so much and you always handle it with grace and courage. This is no different. This won’t last forever, it’s just a temporary setback and it’s okay. And for the record yes—you are beautiful, you always will be to me. A little bun in the oven is not going to change that.”

She’ll probably kill him in his sleep for that last part, but he doesn’t care, it had to be said. There’s a moment of silence and he wonders if she even bothered to listen.

“Thank you,” she suddenly whispers so softly he feels it against his chest rather than hears it.

He slips his hand between her smooth thighs, gently playing with her pubic hair. He feels her relax by dramatic degrees as he strokes her, slowly building her up so she feels no pressure. She actually comes with a joyful laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.


	35. Front Seat Declarations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: scully is driving so mulder could sleep in the car and he starts moaning her name along with a pretty good erection and starts saying how much he adores her & how he's in love with her

Scully has always loved driving at night; something about the glimmer of the pavement, the glow of headlights and the peace of the darkness has always made her feel secure. It’s no different now as she and her partner drive to their next destination.

The Rippingtons are playing lowly on the radio, and she feels relaxed and calm but alert as they make their way steadily down the road. They have at least an hour until she’s going to need directions from Mulder, so when he began to drift off in the passenger seat ten minutes ago she let him, knowing he could use the rest.

She’s shy to admit that she finds it flattering that he’s now comfortable enough around her to sleep.

He snuffles softly and she glances at him, briefly taking in the angular slope of his neck, and the dusting of stubble on the lines of his chin. His hair is mussed, his mouth slightly open in the softness of sleep. She wants to kiss his face; it’s when he’s the most at peace that she remembers how much she loves him. Or at least, that’s when she allows herself to be aware of it.

She takes in a deep, cleansing breath and sighs contentedly, feeling at peace herself. Since the remission of her cancer, they’ve been growing closer, their partnership possibly stronger than ever before. They had gone on a day trip a few weeks ago to go hiking, and it had taken Scully less than half an hour to realize she likes “off work” Mulder. He jokes more, he touches her more, he smiles more. She wants to see more of that, period.

A soft moan comes from the passenger seat and she glances over, concerned. If he shows any sign of a nightmare, she’s pulling off to the shoulder immediately. He doesn’t seem distressed, but the moan comes again, along with a soft grunt.

Her breath snags in her throat, and the warmth in the car seems to increase exponentially when she happens to catch a glimpse at his lap.

Mulder has an erection.

He’s fast asleep, sighing, sporting wood beside her, and now his hips are moving infinitesimally, leaving no doubt in her mind as to what he’s dreaming about.

She’s witnessed him getting hard before in waking hours, but always ignored it as he did, and it’s never been in such blatant circumstances. Pulling over seems silly, there’s not a damn thing she can do or say that won’t result in severe awkwardness, but it also feels wrong to keep barreling down the highway while her partner moans and thrusts in REM cycle pleasure.

He thrusts again and she sees just enough of it in her peripheral vision. She can see the curve of him pushing against his slacks. God he’s big, but not too big, just perfectly so…just so that it’s making her vagina twinge and why the fuck is she thinking about this right now? What does it matter to her how big he is? It shouldn’t. It does.

Then he breathes her name.

She wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t slid his hand over that beautiful bulge and whispered her name again. It was quiet, but it almost seemed to bounce obscenely within the car.

“Scully…baby…I love you, baby…”

_Oh, my God. Oh, my **God**._

No man has ever called her that (or dared to) and she might honestly have to stop the car so she can remember how to breathe.

She’s just short of panicking  (she never panics) when he awakes with a jerk, and his head lolls lazily in her direction against his headrest. Their eyes meet.

The look that he gives sends a hot flame scorching through her entire body, and she’s well aware that it settles deep in her cheeks. His eyes are soft but intense, a slight grin parting his lips. It’s the kind of smile she could wake up to, the kind of smile that reveals love and desire and trust.

 _He wants me_ , her brain murmurs. She is both thrilled and terrified.

He must see the alarm in her face because he suddenly becomes startlingly alert, and the way he hasn’t moved his hand nor glanced at his lap signals that he’s trying very hard to ignore the fact that they both know they’ve seen it.

“Um…I could use the bathroom, Scully. Too much Pepsi at dinner.”

“Yeah. Sure. Rest stop coming up.” She chokes. 

As much as it frightens her, she wants to talk about this.

She knows they never will.


	36. Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can you please write a fic where Mulder talks dirty to Scully before he's about to go down on her? Mulder going down on Scully is my ultimate kink and idk if I should be ashamed or not???¿?¿¿?

He rests his palms gingerly on her inner thighs, his thumbs softly stroking away the hair guarding her most vulnerable place. Her hips gently stir beneath his hands, displaying her growing need. Her flushed folds are the loveliest shade of pink he’s ever seen.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and he means that with all his heart. She scoffs, but he really has never seen a vagina as beautiful as Scully’s and has told her so on at least three occasions. He didn’t even know vaginas could be beautiful. But hers is.

“I’m going to put my mouth on you,” he lightly kisses the trimmed auburn curls, “I’m going to put my mouth on you and kiss you and lick you until you’re so swollen and wet and aching that you’re going to be screaming for me to let you come. I’m going to make you come, baby….and come so hard.”

“Mulder,” –a soft hiccup– “…please…”

He lets his warm breath brush over her as he grumbles, feeling her stir beneath his hands.

“Do you want my mouth on your beautiful pussy, Scully?” He whispers, “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

He loves this moment, that soft heartbeat of anticipation before he lowers his mouth to her opening. He loves driving her crazy.

“Please, Mulder,” she breathes, her arms writhing slowly above her head as she grips at her pillow, her nipples tight with arousal, “Please make me come…”

The sound of the sigh she releases at contact coils down his spine and vibrates in his limbs.

She tastes like the air of a mountain forest: damp and earthy, wild yet familiar. He feels himself grow harder against his pajama pants as she lets out a long, low moan at the introduction of his tongue. She’s whimpering beneath his touch, writhing and shivering and occasionally cursing.

He smiles to himself. She’ll kill him, but there’s no way he’s going to let her come just yet. He’s enjoying himself too much.


	37. Trigger Finger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Whaaat about Scully riding Mulder's fingers until she comes?

Scully never thought it likely before, but she’s beginning to believe in the possibility of dying from pleasure.

Mulder sits on his motel room bed, she stands before him between his knees. Her quivering hands rest on his shoulders whilst one of his is nestled within the fly of her unzipped jeans and beneath her panties, his fingers stroking her softly.

He’s watching her pleasure, a drunk, happy smile on his face even though the bulge she can clearly see in his slacks must be causing him some degree of discomfort. She’s so slick and swollen and relaxed; she’s going to fall on him if he keeps this up, and she tells him so.

He gives her a mischievous grin before using his free hand to lift up the bottom of her shirt, leaning forward and kissing her tummy. She moans quietly as her eyes slip close. How did they get here? She honestly came into his room to talk about the case and ordinarily they’re good about separating business from pleasure. How did they get to the point where he began rubbing her clit _just right??_

Through her haze she glances down at the silky brown hair that is tickling her belly and between her breasts. _Oh yeah, it’s Mulder. This is Mulder, Dana._ A powerful surge moves through her stomach that rivals the ache in her womb.  Sometimes she does that when they’re like this: watches him and reminds herself that this is her partner doing this to her, her best friend making her body hum and sing and throb and shake. Him, him, HIM.

She loves remembering.

She gasps softly and tilts her head back. He’s groaning against her skin as she moves her hips faster, practically fucking herself on his fingers. Or is he fucking her? She can’t tell, but all she knows is that her brain is screaming that he must never, ever stop.

“Love you,” he chokes out in a throaty voice, and she can practically see the look of bliss on his face. She’s still not used to hearing those words—from anyone, let alone him, but lately they elicit less shock or surprise and instead more pleasure. She grips his shoulders tighter, wishing she were naked and in her bed instead of tangled in her stiff, partially-removed jeans whilst standing beside another nameless motel box spring. There’s something about writhing with him in clean, familiar sheets that drives her wild.

“Come on, babe,” he croons, having slightly drawn away to drag his tongue over her navel and up the center line of her stomach, “Let go. Open up, just let go.”

His encouraging words and the sensations they cause are her tipping point (oh yeah, and it’s Mulder) and she lets out a strangled groan, her knees buckling as her orgasm spreads a flush through her entire body. As she predicted she falls against him, her fingers clawing his shirt as her hips thrust ceaselessly against his hand. As if perfectly choreographed he collapses back on the bed, wrapping his free arm around her to pull her with him as she cries out in surprise and lingering pleasure. She comes down gasping into his neck as he continues to stroke her softly, his other hand cupping the back of her head.

She lays atop him, enjoying the feel of his breath in her hair as he gently brings her down from her peak, his touch light and soothing. She can feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek and sternum, and she smiles, warmth and contentment blooming throughout her.

“If you weren’t so good,” she shudders into his ear, “I’d be a lot madder at you for doing that while we’re on duty.”

His smug chuckle prompts her to slide her hand over his erection to turn it into a groan.


	38. Mutual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can you write some mutual masturbation before they actually have sex?

Both of you are naked, standing close together with your mouths wet and frantic. Your bed is a mere five inches away and you absently wonder why neither of you have suggested lying down on it, but then the warmth of her belly presses against your bare erection and you immediately forget the idea.

She’s so warm. In all your born days you swear you have never felt something or someone so warm and soft. Between kisses she thrusts her hips gently against yours and it forces air out of your lungs faster than water through a broken dam.

You want to lay her down, run your mouth on more than her lips and her forehead and the satin of her neck, but you can’t seem to move past her beautiful face. She doesn’t seem to mind, if the cadence of her breathing and her tender murmurs of your surname are anything to go by.

You lick slowly up her throat and you draw back just in time to see her eyes roll back. You notice her hand slide down the length of her belly and your breath catches when her fingers absently comb through her pubic hair. Oh, Jesus. You’ve never seen her do this before and if you’re not careful, this is going to be over much quicker than you would prefer.

She lets out a little high pitched sigh and you answer it with a choked moan. She’s stroking herself now, slowly and steadily and while you would never tell her in a million years, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Her chest is flushed, her lips wet as she runs her tongue frantically between them. A little crease of concentration appears between her brows and you kiss it away, running your hands slowly up and down the length of her arms.

You can’t help it—the sight of her pleasuring herself while you touch and kiss her is overwhelming, and you find that your hand is now grasped around your cock. The skin is so hot and smooth, so enflamed with blood you feel you could blister your palm. 

You push your hips forward so that you can watch the both of you. You can feel the soft brush of her curls against the back of your hand as you stroke, and you honestly think you might die from this. Your cock is millimeters away from her sex, and from here you can see that her fingers are shiny. You want to cry.

“God Mulder, yeah…” her voice is high-pitched, almost squeaky, and you’d think it cute if it weren’t for the fact that you know that tone means she’s almost there.

With a groan you lean forward and latch onto your favorite place between her neck and shoulder; to your dismay you’re too close to watch anymore, and your bodies press together just as she stiffens and cries out. You bark out her name and lose control as she wriggles against you. Both of you lose your balance and you absently remember (just in time) there’s a bed right there as you fall towards it.

You both land haphazardly on the mattress and you press your face into her neck, letting out a wail that would embarrass you in any other circumstance. As it is, you think you hear her giggle slightly between her quiet pants but you don’t care—everything feels too good to care. You’ll apologize later for hollering in her ear and spraying all over her torso, right now you couldn’t even pronounce your own name.

The rasping of your gasps as you try to collect yourself fills the room, and you absently hear her soft whimpers against the shell of your ear. You realize suddenly that you oh-so-gracefully managed to collapse about half of your body weight on top of her, but instead of trying to escape you, she seems to be nuzzling closer, her nose nestled against your collarbone.

You breathe a string of consonants together and she nods with no comprehension, instead drawing her arms around your back and lightly doodling on you with her nails. Her touch brings a shiver up your spine and you rest your face in her waves, inhaling her scent. Your lungs are filled with sweet, fragrant air tinged with her sweat. You never want to leave.

“Sorry…” she pants softly against your neck, “I didn’t…didn’t mean to divert things…I just couldn’t…couldn’t stop…”

You chuckle and gently palm her breast, enjoying her responsive wiggle against your touch.

“Don’t be sorry,” your voice is a bit raspy but you’re unable to resist teasing her, “Give me a few and you can make it up to me.”

The grin she gives you reminds you of the same one you’ll see tomorrow morning when she walks through the office door.


	39. Asking for a Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully asking Mulder to be her sperm donor 
> 
> (I’m taking liberties here with canon, because I believe that Mulder would have given Scully his answer almost immediately, even if she had insisted that he think about it.)

In any other circumstance, his expression would have been funny to her. As it is, she still wants to laugh at his goggle-eyed stare with his half-masticated spaghetti frozen in a bulge at the side of his mouth. He looks as though she had just confessed to having tentacles instead of toes. The clink and clatter of the other patrons in the restaurant around them suddenly seems amplified and she realizes she’s getting a headache.

He finally swallows after a beat and it looks as though it’s the most painful thing he’s ever done in his life.

“I…Scully, are you serious?”

She sighs.

“Mulder—”

“I mean, I know you’re serious, but…Jesus, Scully…You think there’s a chance?”

“My doctor believes so, but the window is small.”

He looks uncomfortable, and she knows what question is coming next before he even opens his mouth. She hates that he has to ask, that he feels the _need_ to ask.

“Do you have a donor?”

Her nails bite into the linen napkin nestled in her lap. She swallows and suddenly feels more scared than she ever has in her life.

“I…I would like it to be you.”

She idly (stupidly) thinks about an alternate time and place—a universe that would never exist—where she could express her desire to have a child with him as they lay curled in her bed. Maybe even _their_ bed.

When did her hands get so wet? Uncharacteristically she begins to ramble, suddenly afraid that whatever he’s about to say will be something she won’t like. Her walls are down, she needs a few minutes to steel herself again.

“It’s your choice, Mulder, I don’t want to pressure you. I know it’s a big decision. I-I still plan to work, I can’t leave yo—our cause, but I wouldn’t be able to accompany you out of town as much. Although I know Mom would be thrilled to look after him, and she lives near a park where he can play with the other kids there. I’ve been looking into a new—”

“Scully,” his voice is the gentlest she’s ever heard. Her heart is pounding so fast she’s afraid her eyeballs might burst from the pressure. His warm, calloused hand carefully pries open one of her fists resting on the table flanking her half-finished meal. He holds it between the two of his and despite herself, she feels herself calming.

“Scully,” he says again, “This…decision to have me father your child…it’s not because I’m…well, “here”, is it?“

"Don’t insult me, Mulder,” it’s the first time she feels her emotions rising to the surface since she brought up the subject, and to his credit he looks appropriately chagrined.  
  
“I’m sorry, it’s an unfair question, but it did come to mind.”

“Mulder, nothing could be farther from the truth,” she says quietly, “You know me far better than as a person who would make a decision like this based on mere convenience.”

He gives a facial shrug that turns into a smile. Her hand slips out of his, but she no longer feels the need to grip anything.

“This is…I don’t know what to say, Scully.”  
  
_Oh, God. Please God, please don’t let him say no._ She won’t begrudge him any choice he makes, but she can’t imagine having any other man’s child but his. While she may not begrudge him, this dream rests with him—with both of them.  
  
Her throat is tight and she tries to clear it, but that only results in warm tears pooling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey…” his voice is silky and soft, and once again she idly (stupidly) imagines them lying in bed together. Suddenly his fingertips are at her cheek and she’s startled as she looks up at him beside her. When did he move to her side of the booth? His gaze is unobtrusive, but she can tell that it’s important that she listen to what he’s about to say. She holds her breath.

“This is a lot for me to process, Scully,” he confesses sheepishly, “I can’t deny that I’m humbled—frankly stunned—by this request…but I don’t want you to think for a moment that I wouldn’t jump at the chance to make you happy.”

“Mulder—”

“Let me finish,” he says gently, “I…the last thing I want to do is overstep my bounds. I don’t know how much of a part you want me to play, be it emotional, or financial—”

“Mulder, I want you to be as much a part of it as you want to be.”  
  
He looks skeptical and it breaks her heart.

“I think you’d make a wonderful father,” she says, her voice watery, “You’re a good man, Mulder…believe me, if I didn’t think that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

She sees something in his eyes that makes him look more raw and vulnerable than she has ever seen him, and it almost takes her breath away. His thumb skates over the lushness of her bottom lip and her eyelids flutter.

“You mean my passing genetic muster had little to do with your choice in candidate?” He’s teasing, but she can hear that his voice is shaky with emotion. She grins and shakes her head wryly. They will have a lot to talk about in the near future but for now, she’ll revel in the gift of hope that he’s given her.  


She realizes they’re both grinning as she hands him the dessert menu.

“Pick something sweet, Mulder,” she says weakly, but she’s glad that her voice displays a small portion of the relief and pleasure she’s feeling, “My treat.”  
  
“I want to be involved, Scully,” he says, and even though she’s focused on folding her crumpled napkin, she can feel his eyes on her, “You’re asking me to do this, and I want to be there for you…and him…every step of the way.”

The warmth that blooms through her chest remains throughout the evening, and grows when he kisses her forehead before they part ways.  
  


 


	40. Midnight Snack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Midnight Snack. Interpret that how you like! Thanks!

The sheets are warm but definitely missing a key component when he wakes up alone with a fuzzy head and aching limbs. An entire day of hiking (“No, no wait Mulder—just one more mile?”) coupled with mattress aerobics later with his best girl left him content but utterly spent. He’ll be feeling it tomorrow…or later today rather, as it’s just after midnight.

He wonders briefly what woke him before stiffly reaching over and pressing his hand to her vacant spot on the bed. It’s warm but disappointingly vacant. He can hear noises just beyond his darkened bedroom and he smiles, pressing his face to her pillow before getting up and heading to the kitchen after slipping on his boxer briefs.

Scully stands in front of the refrigerator, obviously deep in concentration. She’s holding the door open, sending a soft cast of light across the floor which illuminates her features. Just behind her on the counter is a jar of peanut butter, a carton of leftovers from two nights ago, and a banana. Apparently that still isn’t enough for her however, as she also tosses a tin foil-wrapped cluster of brownies she had made for him last week into the pile. Mulder grins when he notices her absently chewing her thumbnail, still gazing idly into the glowing yellow cavern of his fridge. He likes that it actually has food in there now. After all, he’s been regularly having company over—he can’t risk his favorite guest getting hungry.

“Well, well, well…” he whispers, and she whips around to look at him, her eyes wide and her thumbnail still in her mouth. He chuckles at witnessing a real life “hand in the cookie jar” scenario. The shirt he assumes she adorned before leaving the bed is rumpled and messily buttoned, her cute little navel peeking out from within the folds. He wants to press a soft kiss to her stomach.

“So I see how it is,” he makes his way to her side, widening the refrigerator door and pulling out a carton of orange juice, sensing her startled eyes on him the whole time, “I can’t have dessert before dinner, but midnight snacks for special agent pathologists are fair game?”

“Um…” she’s uncharacteristically meek, “…I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. I figured a snack would help.”

He smiles at her and her face splits into a grin. She looks one breath away from giggling, almost as if she’s glad to be caught.

“At least now I don’t have to worry about waking you up,” she steps away from him towards her pile of goodies on the counter, “Dig in.”

She reaches for the brownies before he even has a chance to get his own hands on it.

“Wait a second, I thought you made those for me!”

“I did,” she’s concentrating on unfolding the foil, “but then I remembered how good they are and I think I get dibs since I made them.”

Despite her teasing she wordlessly hands him a square of the thick, nutty, fudge-y goodness, which he happily shoves in his mouth.

“Should’ve savored that Mulder,” she says, “That’s the only piece you’re getting tonight.”

He chuckles around chocolate crumbs, retrieving two glasses from his cabinets and pouring them each a generous serving of orange juice. His chest is warm and full with an emotion he’s slowly beginning to recognize as unadulterated happiness. They’ve always been good with companionship and banter, but since these months of intimacy, it’s taken on a new and beautiful charge. He feels that sensation now as he watches her carefully dish out separate helpings of leftover lasagna from the takeout carton. He’s amused when instead of placing it on a plate as he had anticipated, she simply rips the carton apart for each of them and plops the cold noodles on top.

“A midnight snack fit for a king,” she grins, handing his half to him. He’s glad he left the fridge door open: he can see the sparkle in her eyes and the glow of her hair this way.

“You are a constant surprise to me, Scully,” he says with warmth, taking a hearty bite of his portion. It’s chilled and delicious and he’ll never be able to eat lasagna warm or fresh again.

She licks her fingers of excess sauce before also taking a bite of her own.

“I always try to keep you guessing,” she quips, leaning comfortably against the counter. He admires her smooth legs and her cute toes casting long shadows across his kitchen floor. He loves her so much right now. He always does, but never so much as when she’s relaxed and comfortable with him.

“You do,” he says, and as she reaches for her orange juice he slides his arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her touseled hair. He murmurs her name as she nestles against him and hums, her body warm and pliant. They stand close in companionable silence, munching their makeshift midnight meals and enjoying the closeness and peaceful stillness. He’s so glad they don’t have work tomorrow.

She moves away slightly to retrieve her banana, and he swiftly intercepts it, grabbing the peanut butter as well and heading back towards their bedroom with a mock evil cackle.

“Mulder, I was going to eat that!!” her whine follows him as she totters behind.

“Aw, Scully – it’s much more fun to have snacks in bed,” he teases, already envisioning several places on her fragrant skin he’d like to smear peanut butter.

“Alright, but I have to brush my teeth first.”

He pauses, slightly disappointed. He sees little point in her brushing her teeth when they’re just going to –

Suddenly something small and firm crashes into him from behind as she tackles him with a laugh, sending the peanut butter rolling on the floor and both of them bouncing onto the bed. She crows in victory, clutching at her banana while he laughs and squeezes her.

“Always keep you guessing,” she giggles, her mouth pressing to his.


	41. Jealousy III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: can u write smthing where some woman is openly flirting with scully and mulder gets mad jealous abt it bc scully is blushing the whole time

Lieutenant Francesca Lane is a brilliant woman in her late thirties, a sort of moderator between the sheriff’s office and he and Scilly. She’s articulate, fair, and professional.

The interaction between the three of them has been cordial and friendly. It’s a pleasure working with someone who at least listens to his theories instead of dishing out tired quips and snide remarks. She may not believe what he says, but like Scully, she’ll at least hear him out. It’s a far cry from what he’s had to deal with in past years.

Mulder would like Lieutenant Lane a lot more if she didn’t look at Scully in the manner…well, in the manner he used to look at Scully in their early days.

He’s seen that look before. He’s lost track of the many men and the handful of women who have gazed at Scully over the years, and it makes his stomach twist to the point of near nausea. What makes it worse is that Scully seems to be enjoying the younger officer’s attention…at least the pink in her cheeks at a compliment makes it seem that way.

It doesn’t matter that he’s been healing from the darkness clouding him and that he and Scully have been successfully sorting out their differences. It doesn’t matter that lately she’s been laughing more than he’s heard in years, and it doesn’t matter that two nights ago she whispered into his neck that he’s ruined her for anyone else.

None of that makes a difference. As far as he’s concerned, anyone who shows even a remote amount of interest in Scully is a threat. Some things never change.

“Agent Scully, would you…be free for lunch this afternoon? I know you have an interview later today but I’d love to know more about how pathology figures into your work.”

Just as Mulder begins to bristle Scully glances at him. It’s a fraction of a second, but Lieutenant Lane catches the look between them. Comprehension floods her features.

“Oh,” the younger woman blushes, looking embarrassed, and Mulder almost feels sorry for her, “I-I didn’t realize that you—”

“I’d be happy to join you for lunch, Francesca. We’ll have a good chat,” Scully’s voice is warm and Lieutenant Lane immediately looks relieved. Mulder tries to remain passive as the two women exchange contact information—he knows Scully is just being friendly—but he still wants to pee a circle around her.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” he tries to tease after Francesca leaves, but his throat is tight and he can’t _believe_ that even after all this time he’s still so possessive over her.

Scully flushes and fiddles nervously with her phone.

“Sure you can Mulder,” she says, “Because the point is you’re the only one “taking me anywhere”.“

She raises her head to look at him, and he gazes back at her, noting the slight creases and the fine lines of her face. Her eyes are sea blue this morning, her hair long and silky around her shoulders. He marvels that she’s been with him—in any number of capacities—for over two decades.

"You have nothing to worry about,” she says firmly.

He tries to act dumb, even though they both know she knows better.

“I haven't—”

“You have nothing to worry about,” she says again, with a slight grin this time, “Go and talk to the victim’s father, I’ll catch up with you this afternoon.”

As he watches her walk away, he tries to promise himself to keep the jealousy in check in future events…emphasis on try.


	42. Caught in the Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mulder and Scully have sex and get caught by William

Her breasts were smooth against his lips, her scent surrounding him everywhere: sweat and Scully and shampoo and Scully and happiness and Scully…

Delirious with want and love, he was unable to focus on anything but the soft, lithe body of his wife astride his hips, her skin fairly glowing in the lamplight. Heat radiated from her, sinking into his flesh and only adding to his burning need to make her come.  
  
He licked her nipple roughly, lightly tracking his fingers up and down her firm ass. Scully shuddered, her eyes rolling back as she sighed. The dreamy smile on her face made him feel drunk. He thrust up against her just for good measure, eliciting a throaty moan.  
  
“Oh God, Mulder, right there…just like tha— _Will!!_ ”

So absorbed had he been in Scully’s soft cries of pleasure, it took Mulder a good several seconds to realize his son was standing just there in the doorway, his hand on the knob and a look of confusion and bewilderment on his face. Before the boy even had a chance to say anything, Scully had scrambled off the bed, thrown the quilt over Mulder’s naked body, wrapped herself in her robe, and shuffled Will off in the direction of his room.

The following silence was deafening. Mulder kept seeing Will’s little face, eyes wide and startled and sandy hair mussed and wild. He groaned, roughly scrubbing his sweat-dampened palms up and down his face.

He was in deep shit. Shit, shit, shit.  
  
He was glad and relieved that Scully had taken the initiative to speak to their son. Having never seen his own parents even kiss—let alone walk in on them having sex—Mulder didn’t know first thing about how to address such things as adult intimacy to a child. Scully’s upbringing by comparison had been arguably more secure and loving. Plus, she was Scully—she’d know what to say.

Sufficiently withered in both mind and body, now he just felt guilty. He should have made sure the door was locked before they had begun. Scully always warned him about that. True, she had also been the one pulling him into the bedroom by the front of his shirt before he’d even managed to utter so much as a “how was your day?”, but still…  
  
He should have locked the door.

He heard Scully carefully closing their son’s bedroom door a few minutes later, and he felt his heart sink as he listened to her soft bare footfalls across the hardwood floor hallway. She was going to be furious at him, as she had every right to be.

To his surprise her face softened as she entered their room, closing the door behind her and allowing the robe to slip off her beautiful body and pool on the floor. He gulped, afraid to move as she snuggled into bed with him, her skin warm and her mood clearly receptive.  
  
“Is he…okay?”

“He’s fine, he’s asleep,” said as she nibbled his ear, “I just had a little talk with him.”

He was confused. Why wasn’t she laying into him? He might have just screwed up their son for life, why was she sending her sweet breath cascading down his neck?  
  
“You’re…you’re not mad at me?”  
  
That got her attention, and she drew away to look at him. He would have found her look of confusion endearing had he not been feeling so terrible.

“Mad?” her eyes searched his face calmly, “Why would I be mad at you?”  
  
“I should have locked the door,” he said miserably, running a weak hand through his hair, “Now he’s going to be screwed up because he saw his old man—”  
  
“Mulder, he’ll be fine,” she said soothingly, her hand running down his forearm, “It was an accident and just as much my fault as yours. He’s okay, he’ll forget about it in a week. I think you’re more shaken up about it than he is.”

She said this last part with an affectionate chuckle and he kissed her forehead, gently petting her back. The shame was slowly fading away to a sense of nervous relief. If Scully said it was okay, then it was okay.

“And anyway,” her voice lowered, her fingers absently playing with the hair on his chest, “We have unfinished business to attend to—I’m anything but mad.”  
  
He smiled. Her mouth molded warmly against his, and she drew away just enough to murmur, “And yes, Mulder—the door is locked.”


	43. Make Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: can you write make-up sex in season of secret sex? please! :)
> 
> Combining with this Prompt: Yay prompts! I’m new to this so sorry if this has already been done, but can you write something where they have sex while holding hands the whole time?

“He can almost taste her tears when she picks up the phone at 3:21 in the morning. He melts at the relief that she answered his call at all.

“Mulder…” her voice is thready with emotion, and it’s enough to tighten his throat. Before she can even say any more, he dives in.

“Scully, I—”

“I’m so sor—”

“I’m so sorry for the things I said.”

“Oh God Mulder, me too. I’m so, so sorry.”

It was a stupid argument, as such arguments almost always are: he accused her of shutting him out, she bit back that he was overprotective. He snarled that she didn’t allow him to protect her and she returned he was too self-centered to do it anyway. What had started out as coffee in her kitchen on a Friday night had ended with her tearfully turning her back as he slammed her front door behind him.

Oh yes, and a coldly silent weekend. An empty bed. A dead phone. He feels like he’s been missing his arm for two days.

Now his ears are filled with the sound of her husky voice bathed in relief that they’re talking. He feels as if they’re in some terrible teen flick, blubbering their apologies over the phone line, but he doesn’t care—she’s talking to him again and she sounds just as lonely and miserable as he’s been all weekend.

“Come over,” she whispers, and the emotion in her voice raises the hair on his arms, “I want you here, come over.”

When he arrives they keep the lights off; leaving the only illumination available to them that of the streetlamp outside of her apartment building. He can see the smooth curves of her toned arms and her high cheekbones breaking out from amongst the shadows. He undresses her slowly in her bed, touching her softly as each square inch is revealed to him. Her skin is like silk and the quiet mewls and sighs emitting from her lips makes him warm everywhere. He rubs his aching length against her thigh before moving back and gently parting her legs to press a kiss to her curls.

“Please Mulder, up here,” is her quiet interception, and as he moves to comply she takes both his hands in hers, moving them above her head so that he presses her into the mattress. He rubs her palms with his thumbs as he slips inside her, smiling when he sees her eyelids flutter. He’s as slow and soft with her as he can be, knowing she’s turned on by gentleness just as much as firmness. He wants to stroke her, wants to brush the stray strands of hair away from her face, but she seems loathe to let go of his hands. 

This won’t be their last fight, he knows this as he drags his lips down the length of her sweet throat, they are too different and too stubborn. But as he whispers “I’m sorry” one last time, he realizes there was never a moment during those painful 48 hours that he once feared she would leave him.

The realization of his emotional growth and the acknowledgement of the strength of their relationship dawns just as he feels her clench around him, and it’s enough to almost make him weep with relief.


	44. Break Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you please write something where Scully is busy but Mulder just wants to cuddle? Thanks!
> 
> Combining with this Prompt: Mulder comforting Scully in bed/on his couch in a platonic way, with cuddles and warm blankets.

_This type of discoloration is typically associated with—_

“Hey, Scully?”

_…associated with extreme internal bleeding—_

“Scully?”

_—as well as extensive deep set tissue damage—_

“Yo, Dr. Scully!”

The arrival of his voice right above her head startles Scully away from her typing and she jerks sharply in her chair at the sudden appearance of a towering six foot plus man in her field of vision.

“Mul—what is it?” She suddenly becomes aware of how messy Mulder’s kitchen has become. Medical reference books are piled atop the counter, half-eaten toast (her dinner) rests cold and stiff on a plate beside her, and her laptop is nestled in the one spot not covered in notes and autopsy forms on his kitchen table.

“You’ve been working all evening,” his hand is gentle on her back, “You wanna relax on the couch with me? I can get you something more to eat?”

Her frustration with this case has been eating at her for some time. Ordinarily she’d be able to take some time away from it after hours, but this current investigation has been haunting her to the point of distraction. To make the pressure even tougher, Mulder had been the one to recommend her services, and while his choice wasn’t intended to make her stressed, it does make her want to do right by him.

Now she’s tired, heartsick, and on edge.

“Mulder, I’m not going to cuddle. I need to finish this report. I know you mean well, but I really can’t relax when some son of a bitch has destroyed so many people’s lives and I can’t identify one simple bruising pattern despite working on this for two solid hours!!”

He takes her sharp tone without a remark, merely squeezing her shoulder before obliging her and moving away.

“I know, I understand. I’m sorry for pestering you, Scully,” he says genuinely. Before he has a chance to lollop back to the couch she grabs his wrist, pulling him back to her side at the table.

“No Mulder, I’m sorry,” she counters, rubbing her thumb over the fine bones of his hand, “I just…I hurt for these women’s families and I…you recommended me for this. I hate the feeling of letting someone…anyone down.”

She’s surprised that she’s admitted this vulnerability so readily, but given that they’ve been sharing the physical in addition to their usual vulnerabilities these past few months, perhaps it’s not so unexpected. Mulder’s good at bringing that out of her…and making sure she doesn’t regret it.

He kneels down beside the table, resting his crossed arms atop her paperwork so that she looks at him. His eyes are warm and gentle and she’s immediately comforted. She rests her hand atop his forearm, enjoying the texture of the soft hair and his warm skin as she strokes it.

“I get it, Scully. I get your frustration and helplessness,” his voice is warm and she closes her eyes for a moment to bask in it, “But at the same time, every day is a step closer to saving the life of a person who won’t be this guy’s victim…you’re one step closer to offering a family member the opportunity of closure. I know you’re being hard on yourself, but that’s why you’re good at what you do. That’s why I recommended you for this case.”

Warm tears flood her eyes, and she knows he sees them, because his gaze grows soft, a little crease appearing in his forehead.

“And as my doctor would tell me,” he stands up, running his hand down the back of her neck, “You’re no good if you’re exhausted. You’ve been working on this for three days, you need rest.”

Dimly, Scully nods. She doesn’t even object when he reaches forward and closes her laptop, helping her to her feet and kissing her forehead.

“Get on the couch,” he murmurs against her temple, “I’ll make you some bedtime tea and I’ll even let you watch that soap you will never admit is your guilty pleasure.”

His tenderness and humor soothes her, and an unbidden smile curves her mouth. She glances over at the television playing the opening title sequence of something called “My Mother the Car”. Already Mulder is filling a mug with water from the tap and digging out a bag from the little tin she KNOWS he bought just for her for when she comes over.

She neatens her piles as best she can before collapsing on his couch. The faux leather is still warm from his body and the creak of the smooth, comfortable surface eases her raw nerves. A few minutes later he joins her, setting her steaming mug of chamomile atop his coffee table.

“Come here,” he rumbles, sitting on the couch and flopping a pillow onto his thighs. He gently guides her to lie down beside him, allowing her to settle her head on his lap before wrapping his afghan close around her. His hand rests protectively atop the ball of her shoulder. The lights are dim, melding perfectly with the hazy glow coming from his fish tank next to them. The television is just low enough to sound like comforting white noise, and Mulder is like a heated blanket.

She feels content, and so wonderfully safe.

“I like you, Mulder,” she breathes. It’s not a flippant remark—yes, she likes him in that giddy, schoolgirl “I’m in love with a wonderful boy” kind of way, but it’s more than that. She likes his passion. She likes his vulnerability. She likes how affectionate he is, how quick he is to laugh when he’s happy.

It doesn’t hurt that she likes the way he kisses, too.

His fingers find their way into her hair and she purrs at the resulting goosebumps that rise on her arms. She might never move again.

“I like you too, Scully,” his voice surrounds her like warm, melted molasses.

She’s asleep before her tea has even has a chance to cool off.


	45. A Loving Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Would you write soft Scully giving sad puppy Mulder a hand job after a tough case? 
> 
> I honestly started out with the intention of just a hand job but…well, you’ll see.

He looks so tired when he steps out of the shower, wet hair spiked and the damp skin of his hips wrapped in a towel. Sure, you two are getting older—but this isn’t age, it’s been an emotionally taxing case. You’re glad it’s over, especially for his sake.

You confirm that he’s exhausted when he doesn’t even look at you sitting on the bed, his face somber and almost forlorn as he makes his way towards your dresser. You’re silent as you watch his shoulders and arms–a little bulkier but still solidly muscled–as he pulls open a drawer. He’s so beautiful, warm and gentle and strong. The ends of his recently cropped hair catch the light of the lamp and you can see the bits of silver within the dark mahogany.

You’re so happy just to be near him again, even when he’s exhausted. Even when he’s irritable. Because it means he’s feeling again.

You’re compelled to touch him.

You whisper his name softly, and he looks up from where he’s digging through his shirt drawer. You tilt your head slightly to bring him over, reminding yourself of a similar gesture he made decades ago in a nighttime baseball field. The run down look is still on his face, but you can’t miss the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He drops the shirt and steps towards you, his torso meeting your outstretched hands as you press your fingertips to his stomach.

You love how soft his skin is, dusted with just enough hair. He never was your type (you suspect you’ve never been his, either), but somewhere along the line he became your picture of perfect male beauty.

He leans down to kiss you and you oblige him, but immediately draw away again, returning your attention to the smooth lines of the torso in front of you. You kiss his stomach, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and warm, clean skin. You let your fingers play down the line of hair that leads to one of your favorite parts of him, and he shivers slightly, causing you to smile.

You gently peel his towel away and let it fall, softly petting the curls at the base of his already half-hard cock. He sighs deeply as you lightly clasp him and your stomach flips. Here he is so warm and smooth, and you relish the texture of something you missed for almost two years. You feel his hand rest on the back of your head briefly and you glance up to smile at him reassuringly, heartened to see his face a little lighter than two minutes ago.

He’s already seeping, his skin growing warmer by the minute. You just wanted to touch him a little while ago, but now you’re getting other ideas. You love giving head when you’re in love, and Fox Mulder is the deepest you’ve ever been in love.

You slip your mouth around him, letting the end of your tongue slide against the length of his slit. He whimpers—fucking whimpers—and it makes you shiver. You inhale deeply once, letting him move deeper into your mouth.

“God, Scully…” You know what he looks like right now: head tilted slightly back, mouth slack with a soft smile, his eyelids fluttering. You want to see how quickly you can make him lose control. You’ve missed that, you’ve missed giving him the kind of pleasure that he so easily seems to give you.

You’ll argue you’re just making up for lost time.

You cup his testicles in your hand, massaging him as your other hand joins the occupation of your mouth, covering what your lips can’t reach. His groan is tight and you feel his fingers against your scalp again, almost tenderly stroking your hair. It sends shivers moving down behind your ears and into your nipples. A soft moan from you mingles with another of his.

You continue on for several minutes, impressed with his stamina, but then you are hit with a mixture of devilishness…it’s time to up the ante a little. The next time you swirl your tongue over his shaft, you let your index finger slide against his perineum and softly press against his anus. His fingers briefly flinch in your hair, and his entire body clenches.

“Scully, fuck!” His hips surge forward as he lets out a soft sob and he comes into your waiting mouth almost immediately. A surge of surprise and pride washes through you as he trembles, his groans intermingled with “fuck!”, “oh god”, and “Scully”.

He topples forward a bit and with a laugh you help him as he crawls atop the quilt and collapses beside you, his chest heaving. You nuzzle your face to his neck and settle against his side. He rests his hand between your thighs and cups you over your pajamas, nonverbally promising to attend to the ache in your abdomen as soon as he gets his bearings. You love him so much.

“Feeling better?” you ask softly. He grins, his eyes sleepy.

“I did as soon as you smiled at me when I came out of the shower,” he chuckled, “Now I'm great.”


	46. This Time You're Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can you do something along the lines where mulder and scully are having sex during her pregnancy and mulder feels the movement of the baby for first time?

Somehow he’d forgotten how truly soft she is, how smooth and good her skin feels against his. He’d forgotten her real warmth, the breathy sound of her sighs, the coolness of her hair pressed against his face. Despite the fact that memories of her soothed him and kept him alive through months of pain, torture and darkness, memory—however accurate—just can’t compare to actuality.

Fox Mulder may have been dead in the ground a scant two months before, he may have scars marring his face and heart, but nothing can taint this. With every breath he takes, with every slow thrust into the velvet heat surrounding him, he feels stronger and more alive than ever. 

He wishes he could look into her face, see the sleepy arousal in her eyes as they reconnect after months of physical and emotional distance, but the ample swelling of her belly won’t allow for that. Maybe, just maybe, next time he can lean over and kiss her as they join. And he does hope there’ll be a next time.

In the meantime, he can press his face in her hair and relish the feel of her silky back nestled against the curves of his chest and stomach.

“Mulder, wait…wait!”

He freezes, an icy drip of fear making itself known along the length of his spine. He’s hurt her. She’s changed her mind. She doesn’t want this, doesn’t want him…

Oh, she’s grabbed his wrist. She’s bringing it to the front of her belly. He stiffly allows her to press his hand to her taut skin, his erection still deep within her and his heart pounding. He’s too alarmed to speak.

“Mulder, feel,” the joyful whisper of her voice sends goosebumps rising down the length of his arms. He pauses, his hand resting atop her stomach as she trembles slightly in his arms. He waits for a moment, his breath stuck in his throat as he strains to hold still, lest he miss what she so excitedly wants him to touch.

Then he feels it, the slight stirring of the child within her. Her child…his child.

“Oh my God,” he breathes.

“The first time I…I felt him move I wanted you to be there so badly I almost felt sick,” she confessed thinly, “You’re…you’re here now. This time you’re _here_.”

He feels the movement again beneath his hand and he swallows thickly.

 _He’s going to be so loved_ , is his only thought. 

His eyes well with hot tears and the two of them are motionless, save for the slow circling of their palms caressing her stomach. He can tell just by looking at her face every day that she is literally and figuratively full of life, but the soft movement beneath his hand now proves it…and she wants him to be a part of it.

It is terrifying and immensely humbling.


	47. Decontamination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Decontamination shower fic?

The bite of the water hitting his back draws a gasp from him that shakes his body. The liquid needles are cold and vicious against his skin and he presses his palms harder into the wall to combat some of the force beating against him.

Despite the discomfort, it’s worth it, even if it means scraping off the top layer of his skin. He’s certain he and Scully got some good photographs.

“Hands on the wall please, Agent Scully. Feet apart.”

Startled, he turns to his right in the direction of the voice muffled by a hazmat suit. He’s met with a semi opaque plastic guard, but for some reason there’s a carved gap from the wall about three inches wide between the screws that hold it in place.

It’s his partner. Naked, about ten feet away from him. He feels his body go numb.

He watches her comply to the request, resting her hands flat on the slick, sterile wall in front of her. Mulder can barely breathe. From his vantage point he can see just about everything, from the muscled curve of her bicep to the gentle swell of her ass. He should look away, she has no idea she’s being watched and knowing Scully, this exposure is already less than comfortable—but he can’t look away.

She’s so beautiful it _hurts_ him.

With a pop and a splatter the hose in her station comes to life and smacks into her compact body. He sees her grit her teeth against the discomfort, her forearms drawing closer to the wall as her little hands ball into fists. It’s a scant few seconds, but he can already see her shoulders and back growing red from the abrasive sting of the water. He feels a twinge of regret for her discomfort, but she takes it well, gritting her teeth briefly and bowing her head as the hard blast traverses the length of her spine. He’s filled with an immense sense of pride watching her.

The water sluices over his body as he watches it flow over hers, noting the layers of her ribs and her beautiful legs. Everything seems muffled around him and he fancies all her can hear is the slightly rushed rasp of her breathing. She suddenly turns to face the other way, and he gets a clear view of her smooth belly and small, sweet breasts. He wants to cry.

“Agent Mulder! Could you please turn around??”

Startled he twists to face his hose-brandishing torturer. He grunts as the water hits his stomach and figures he deserves it for staring unabashedly as his best friend. He’s unable to surreptitiously take another glance (probably for the best), but what he saw will be enough to fuel his dreams for at least six months.    

Man, is he glad this water hurts so much. This easily could have become more embarrassing.

When they meet up again they are wrapped in robes, awaiting their change of clothes. She’s quivering with chill and discomfort, but she smiles when she sees him. All he can think of is her reddened skin and he’s filled with an irrepressible urge to wrap her in fleece and kiss an apology to every raw, sensitive curve until she’s shivering with pleasure instead of pain.

“Quite a show, eh, partner?” She grins.

He doesn’t ask what she means, but the twenty implications and possibilities that pop into his brain will keep him awake for the entire night.


	48. Complete Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you write something where Scully squirts for the first time? 
> 
> Combing with this Prompt: Mulder making Scully squirt

He disturbs her reading in bed with a kiss. She tastes like tea and Scully, her tongue smooth and her lips slightly chapped with the chill of the season. She has work to do tonight but he’s grateful she seems willing to be interrupted.

She moves to wrap her arms around him but he intercepts her, drifting a kiss down the length of her fragrant neck. He helps her to lie down, shoving aside her journals and her eight pound laptop.

Gently he slides her well-worn sweat pants down her slender hips, a smile flickering across his mouth when he sees she’s not wearing panties. She wriggles her bare ass against the coverlet, her playful little grin mirroring his. He’s frequently enchanted by her ability to mix sweetness with a sense of allurement. As comfortable as Scully appears to be with sex—at least with him—there always remains a tiny part of her that seems to be shy that she enjoys it.

He finds it endearing.

She’s always trimmed and groomed to perfection (because of course she is), and he traces the smooth border of her pubic hair with his fingertip, her deep auburn curls guarding one of his many favorite parts of her. He can see the goosebumps rising on her stomach as he touches her as lightly as possible. Her eyes drift closed and she breathes his name as he slides one arm beneath her ass and brings her groin closer to his face.

He keeps his touch gentle at first, slowly coaxing her to yield until she’s heated and swollen before him. By the time he presses his mouth to her she’s as slick as syrup against his lips, her fingers scrabbling frantically within his hair. His own eyes slide shut as he absorbs the sensations of her: the taste of her arousal mixed with the slight bitterness of her soap, the smoothness of her thighs, the whistle of her breath between her teeth…

Deftly he maneuvers his hand so that he can drift his thumb up and down the length of her perineum as he laves her.

“Mother _fucker,_ ” she whispers in pleasure, her voice hoarse and gritty. He tries not to laugh as his heart beats a giddy rhythm in his chest.

When she comes her entire body clenches, one hand letting go of his scalp to slide down and press against her hardened abdomen. She jerks and he feels the warmth of her release slide down his chin.

“Fucking _fuck_ , Mulder!” she screeches in a choked cry, and he hopes against hope that the motel walls aren’t as thin as they appear. The room next door to them may be empty but there’s still a shriveled old man at the front office. Really, he shouldn’t care—he’s too busy delighting that he gave his best friend an orgasm.

She hasn’t moved from where he left her, rumpled and panting softly with her top hiked up to her ribs. She continues to press her lower stomach, as if soothing herself, her fingertips barely brushing her pubic hair. She looks slightly stunned. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve, suddenly realizing how much his cock is aching in his boxers. There’s a small wet spot on the sheets between her legs.

“You okay?” he murmurs over her heavy breaths. He realizes he never even took off her tee shirt and he laments he hasn’t given her breasts the freedom and attention they so often deserve. She nods, the little crease of bewilderment still between her brows.

“Yeah, I…that was just,” she makes an odd gesture with her hand, “…new.”

“First time that’s happened?” he asks quietly with a smile, pretending not to be fucking delighted that he just made Scully squirt. _Dear Diary, tonight I made Dana Katherine Scully squirt and it was her very first time…_

She huffs in a sheepish laugh, a flush covering her face as she quirks her eyebrow at him…alluring and sweet again.

“Yeah. And I can’t even be vexed with you for being cocky because I can see you’re trying hard not to be.” He laughs, encouraged by her teasing grin.

She grows serious again, and when she whispers “come here”, he has no desire but to do just that.


	49. In Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: So if you're still taking prompts (for art and/or stories) my newest kink is a light dominant Scully.... Just if you're interested.... 
> 
> Combining with this Prompt: Could you write something About scully talking dirty to Mulder, and him sucking her nips?

He doesn’t know how they got to this point, and part of him is embarrassed, a tad chagrined that she’s figured him out so quickly after only two months of having sex.

What she’s doing isn’t a demand, though. This isn’t something being taken from him or beaten out of him. Scully’s different. She’s merely requesting this of him and he has no desire to refuse her. He has nothing but choice and yet no choice at all. His heart and his dick are very keen on this.

He always wants to please her, but right now that same desire has become positively visceral. And the thought that she knows it and knows how to bring it out of him makes him harder than just about anything else she does. Oh _hell_ , everything else she does…

“Good, Mulder…” she croons, and though her voice is steady, he can feel her fingers trembling as they comb through his sweaty hair, “God, that’s so good…more…”

He moans quietly and latches on more firmly to her sweet nipple. Scully is small (he knows it’s a point of insecurity with her) but there’s just enough to fill his hands and honestly they’re the most beautiful breasts he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing. Or holding. Or kissing.

His mouth drifts down the curve of her right breast, his nose nuzzling against the mocha-colored dusting of freckles across her chest before he begins nibbling at her ribs. He’s startled when she moves away from him, pushing against his shoulders as she wriggles in his lap.

“Uh uh uh, Mulder…” she lightly pulls his hair and he moans as a warm surge of blood floods through the length of his erection. She’s barely even touching him and he’s more aroused than he’s ever remembered being this early into foreplay.

She kisses his forehead and he whimpers as she murmurs against his skin.

“I didn’t tell you to move…I liked what you were doing. More, please.”

He gently cups her shoulder blades and obeys, noting with no small satisfaction that her nipples are erect and the soft area surrounding them is pink from his teeth and lips. Her warm skin is in his mouth again and he sucks, making sure to slick his tongue steadily over the bump of her nipple.

“Bite it, Mulder,” she breathes, “Be a good boy and bite it. Softly.”

Her shoulders arch back slightly as she pushes her chest closer to him and, again, he obeys, lightly pinching her nipple between his incisors. She lets out a sound that is so exquisite he has to close his eyes to prevent himself from passing out. He gives her one last suck before sliding to the other one and giving it the same treatment. Her breathy sighs and cooing praises will keep him company for months on the nights they aren’t able to be together like this.

She lightly pushes him away, her breasts red and slick with his saliva and her face wrapped in a coy grin. He misses her taste instantly.

“Okay, now,” she licks her lips, “Get on your back.”


	50. So Adorbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you please write Scully giving Mulder a handjob and Mulder being vocal about it? (Season 11)
> 
> Takes place after "Ghouli"

They’re in a corner booth. The restaurant is fairly empty, but the alternative indie music that strums from the speakers creates a mood that is full and warm. They sit in companionable silence as they eat, proximity and familiarity leaving them warm and relaxed.  
  
An ale in each of their bloodstreams does hurt, either.  
  
He takes a healthy bite of his reuben and chews happily, making satisfied little noises. For no reason at all he seeks out her eyes and gives her a smile; the kind he used to give her years ago whenever he turned in bed and remembered that she had stayed the night. His face has changed so much in these years, yet he is still so endlessly endearing to her. A feeling of affection so powerful it tightens her throat moves through her, and she wordlessly reaches out, squeezing his thigh. She gets like this sometimes; becomes so overwhelmed with affection for him that she almost can’t handle it. 

“I love you,” she breathes.

He looks rocked, and she suddenly realizes why—she hasn’t said those words to him in ages, not since long before she packed and despite of a handful of intimate meetings on a pull-out sofa bed and casting eyes on their long-lost son.  
  
The closeness is there. They’re slowly moving back to that place, and he has attempted to say those words before, but she always skirted them. For some reason tonight, in a dimly-lit McMenamins with half a tuna salad sandwich in her belly, she wants to address them.

Before he can even help her or respond, she draws his zipper down, slipping her hand into his boxer briefs and drawing him out into the warm, dry air of the pub. She feels him stiffen—in more ways than one—his body responding in hesitation as his smooth cock hardens in her grip. She strokes him once under the table.  
  
“Scully!” his raspy whisper is full of shock and pleasure and she smiles at him wordlessly. She’s always surprised when she is reminded how truly soft his skin is, how the heat of him seems to pour off his body in complete contrast to her perpetually slightly chilled hands. She strokes him again, her pace slow as she draws down, then quick again as she moves up, thinking of the same manner he thrusts into her. Her clit tingles and she ignores it.  
  
“Fuck, that’s good, Scully,” he rasps, his hands partially curled into fists on the table before him. He looks like he’s about to cry.

“Language,” she scolds softly, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she covertly has her partner’s angry red cock grasped in her hand in a public place and is scolding him for using the mother of all dirty words. Despite his obviously on-edge state of mind, he manages to laugh weakly, his ass moving infinitesimally against the seat. She dives deeper, slipping her hand into his underwear to cradle his balls. He actually whimpers.

“Scully, c'mon…” 

She doesn’t know what the whine means, but she suspects he’s beyond preventing her from her intent. Good. He should have known better than to smile at her like that before they got to this point, then.

He doesn’t last long and she’s fine with that—the tiny practical side of her that still remains _really_ doesn’t want them to get caught. But she grins when he grunts and chokes out her name, thrusting into her hand as she casts a cursory glance around the restaurant to make sure the their waiter doesn’t come by to ask how everything is.  
  
Everything is juuuuust fine, as far as she’s concerned. Mulder would likely agree with her.  
  
He’s shaky and trembling for several minutes, time she uses to press kisses to his temple and gently tuck him back into place.  
  
“There’s more than gum under that table now,” his voice is high-pitched and strained. She licks the corner of his mouth and silently laughs through her nose. The warm wash of affection she experienced earlier has still not gone away, and she doesn’t want it to.  
  
“Come home with me tonight,” she says simply.  
  
He does.


	51. She'll Never Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully is insecure with her body and keeps pushing Mulder away but he just doesn't 'get' what the problem is + aims to change her mind. Thankssssssss :)

She is everything you’ve dreamt her to be. More.

She’s warm. Alive. Passionate. Incredibly giving. You feel as though she’s a gift that you are continuously able to open again and again, and what lies within is new and more breathtaking each time.

The mood of this morning has been playful. You cuddled her close as she woke up, and you whispered words into her drowsy ear just to make her giggle. She made you breakfast, you made her coffee. She walks comfortably around in your dress shirt, the silhouette of her slender form caressed by yet hidden within the fabric. The light of a new day pours relentlessly into the windows, making her skin glow and her hair aflame with color. You find yourself glancing at her frequently, if for no other reason than to remind yourself that she’s here.

You sit on the couch with her standing before you, your coffee mugs empty on the table, and you take her cool hands in yours, drawing her closer. With a gentle smile, she steps forward.

“Come here,” you whisper, “Let me look at you.”

You see something flicker across her face, a slight hesitation. This is the first time you’ve seen this since you’ve been intimate; the first time she’s displayed any reservations in regards to your intimacy. It makes you curious…what could she be afraid of? You drink in her body language: her grim mouth, the way her hands grip the bottom hem of your shirt, her bare legs pressed close together.

A light suddenly blinks on in your brain. Her shyness, up until this point, has been subtle; so subtle you’ve barely noticed it. The two of you have typically made love only at night—one single session of morning sex had been under blankets. You’ve playfully attempted to initiate more daring locations: the shower, the kitchen, even her dining room, but she’s always managed to circumvent you and pull you back to safer, dimmer places.

You’ve seen glimpses of her, flashes of her breathless perfection, but never all of her. Never in one whole, complete image, and while you never realized it before, now it all seems so obvious. And you want nothing more than to reassure her that she is everything you have ever wanted.  
“Scully?” You can see her stiffen minutely, her tense body tightening beneath your shirt. You move to soothe her, place your hands on her hips. You can’t believe she could have these doubts. Not your Scully, not your strong, brave, unshakable Scully.

You pull her forward again, and though you can feel the doubt simmering off of her, she allows you to fully unwrap her from your crisp dress shirt, and her body is bared before you. You’re prone to dramatics, but there’s nothing melodramatic about the sheer sensation of lust and appreciation that floods through your entire being at the sight of her skin.

“This is what you were afraid to show me?” your voice is tight with awe, “Scully, you’re fucking incredible. Look at you.”

Her mouth quivers with vulnerability, and your heart aches with the knowledge that she will never see herself the way you do.

You remember reading once that trust is gained not with a firm grip, but with a touch as though one were petting a hummingbird. You try to remember that now as your fingertips drift across her shoulders and her finely-crafted collarbone, down her lightly muscled arms. Her breasts are sweet—that’s the only word you can find to describe them—small but firm and heavy in your palms. You let the pads of your thumbs skim lightly over her bright pink nipples, and you watch as they crinkle and tighten at your touch. The heat thrumming from her skin astounds you.

Your eyes glide to the angry pucker on the smooth plane of her belly, and you know its presence hurts her. She doesn’t get—will never get—that instead of repulsing you, as you’re sure she thinks it does, this scar only makes you more grateful that she’s here. That she’s warm and soft and here and alive and opening herself like this to you.

You lean forward and she draws back slightly, her expression stricken. You soothe her, and drag your lips over her stomach, tasting her fragrant scent. A quiet moan leaks out of her, a tone of pleasure and something that you suspect is relief. Your fingers softly drift against her pubic hair and she makes the sound again—definitely pleasure this time. You suck hard on her tummy, hard enough to leave a mark and slide the length of your finger against her slit. She sighs, and you’re rewarded with the feeling of her fingers in your hair.

For the first time since you started this she relaxes—really relaxes—and you give her the attention you’ve been wanting to give her since the first time you kissed her in that hospital lobby only a month before…and she lets you.


	52. Worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I’m in the mood for some serious Mulder paying attention to scully’s breasts, and eating her out.

He loves how sensitive she is, how readily she responds to his touch. He suspects its her genes—all those nerve endings that reside closer to the surface as a result of her red hair and pale skin…but he still hopes with no small amount of vanity that it’s because of him. That she’s responding not just to _a_ touch, but to _his_ touch…

He palms her breasts, small and perfect in his hands, her naked torso stretched before him in an invitation he can barely look at for the pure joy of knowing it’s all for him. He massages her, lost in the wonder of her warm body and the look of drowsy joy on her face. He rubs her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, marveling at the sheer beauty before him as she wriggles with pleasure below him. He bathes her chest in kisses and her giggles become sighs as he licks and nuzzles one pale mound and strokes the other with his fingertips.

Their eyes meet as he pulls back a bit and he smiles when she wriggles again with delight. Unintentionally his eyes fall to the angry scar glaring at him on the smooth plane of her belly. He sobers and without thinking, he reaches out to touch it. He can’t move past it, his thumb passing back and forth over the shiny pink knot. He should have been there…should have protected her…should have kept her from getting hurt…

“Mulder.”

Her fingers are soft and sudden in his hair. He looks up, sees the sleepy look of arousal in her eyes, the gently playful smile that he has only recently become familiar with.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she whispers, “Just love me, okay?”

Warm tears pool in his eyes and he kisses the scar, moves down to the dark auburn hair guarding her sex. God, he can’t believe this…he’s done this a handful of times already and he still can’t believe that he knows what she tastes like, knows the slick texture of her against his tongue.

“I love you,” he breathes against her curls before pressing a kiss to her vulva.   The sigh that leaks out of her is nothing short of blissful as he gently opens her and is met with the scent and warmth of Scully wanting him.

He moves to bracket her hips with his hands, knowing the sensations are more intense for her when she can’t move. She’s swollen and open and he has no difficulty sliding the length of his tongue where she needs it most. She becomes slicker against his mouth as he lightly thrums the bumps of her hipbones and traces the line of her ribs. She gets hotter and plumper with each gentle suck, every steady lave. He traces the underside of her clit with the very tip of his tongue and she groans. It won’t be long now.

She thrashes and bucks when she comes and he lets her. Her hands are over her face, and he can hear her sucking in deep, gasping breaths, her throat pulsing with silent cries. She pushes herself harder into his mouth and he responds with lips and tongue, following her climax a half-step behind until she slowly descends and settles, her hand on her stomach the signal for him to back off.

“You’re unbelievable,” she breathes shakily. He takes in the sight of her: mussed hair, flaming cheeks, and a single tear streak from the corner of her eye. She’s practically glowing with electricity. He smiles. They’ve only done this a handful of times, but he knows with no uncertainty that she will be the last woman he will ever share a bed with for the rest of his life.

“ _You’re_ unbelievable,” is his response.


	53. Post Coital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I would love a little fluffy post coital msr of them cuddling and kissing, and leading to more sex

“You want the lamp off now?”

“No, leave it. M’too comfy.”

Her answer to his query is muffled against the bare skin of his perspiration-dotted chest. She’s thoroughly and completely curled up deep in his arms, and he knows she intends to stay there amidst her crushed pillows and hopelessly tangled bed sheets. He doesn’t care; he’ll be her pillow any damn time of the week, even if his motives are of the selfish variety, and he tells her so.

She giggles silently in reply and he kisses her gently, drunk with the dewy texture of her lips and the way she accepts and reciprocates the touch of his mouth. He’s lightheaded with how warm and sluggish he feels…he’s never been a lazy man, but never getting out of this bed sounds pretty damn good right now.

This is the Scully he never entertained that he’d ever see…the Scully soft and milky with contentment, her skin damp and her eyes glazed with…wait, she’s grasping him gingerly in her hand. Jesus, she wants more already; they’ve only been recovering for about fifteen minutes. There’s no way he can—

“Again,” she breathes, nuzzling the silky tip of her nose against his clavicle. The sensation zips straight to his dick and he moans as goosebumps bead all over his skin. He obediently rises above her, bracketing her shoulders with his forearms. He slips his hands beneath the abundance of burnished curls about her head made from shower steam and the physical expression of love against one of her Egyptian cotton pillows.

It’s slower than their first run, their sensitivity slightly dulled by the potency of their last culmination, but it’s deeper. He notices the little things that make sex with Scully better than any other encounter he’s had in his entire life…the way her sharp little exhales whistle out of her nose, the way her thighs twitch and quiver the closer she swells to climax, the way her fingers drift and drum over the ridges of his ribs and spine.

Nothing ever has, or ever will, compare to this. He’s certain of it.

He remembers the brief stint in their history when he had a vivid, piercing window into her innermost thoughts…how his guilt with invading her emotions battled with his wonder at the intensity of the sensations he felt from her. He recalls being shocked at the discovery of how deeply, how passionately she feels things…joy and desire and hope and insecurity and love. Most of all love. Her calm demeanor and soothing voice hid nothing after this discovery.

Now, as he gazes and kisses and rocks and strokes, he remembers that sensation, feeling overwhelmed with the knowledge of her feelings for him. He might not be able to read her mind anymore, but he sure as hell can read the glimmer in her eyes.

He kisses her softly again, the smoothness of her belly and the grip of her thighs on his hips adding to the blinding sensation of her hot muscles gripping his cock. She jerks once in his arms, and knowing what that means, he draws back to watch her. Her hand drifts down to where they are joined, her fingers gentle against her own clit.

“Oh, I’m coming….” she whispers, and he nods encouragingly, brushing her hair out of her mouth as her eyes slip closed. The sheer, unadulterated bliss on her face and the touch of her fingers tip him over and he screams silently into her neck, his mouth sloppy and wet against her throat. She grunts once and with a shiver, stills as he quivers and pants in her arms.

Afterwards he moves to pull away from her, clean up, give her space, whatever she needs, but she yanks him firmly down atop her again.

“Don’t you dare,” she mumbles against his shoulder, “M’too comfy.”


	54. Quiet Matrimony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: M&S trying to keep quiet in the throes of passion while a baby William sleeps peacefully in his bedroom down the hallway

“God…marry me….” he whispers fiercely in her ear, “Fucking marry me and we’ll do this for the rest of our lives.”

Despite the ever-increasing pressure in her groin that threatens to undo her, Scully manages to laugh, albeit quietly. Mulder’s breath is hot against her collarbone. She loves the feel of his pubic hair against her belly, and the slick hardness of his arms bracketing her shoulders makes her feel safe and in his power. She shudders when he grinds against her clit.

“We’re already married, Mulder,” she murmurs into the cool shell of his ear, “I’ve been your—ungh…wife now for three months.”

“God, I know,” he moans, and thrusts harder, “I know. I love being reminded.”

She digs her nails into his ass—something she’s recently discovered he enjoys—and he loses it, sobbing once into her mouth before she kisses him to quiet his cries. He fumbles, moving his hand clumsily between them to brush against her pubic bone.

Somehow it’s enough. She clamps her mouth shut—hard—her pants of release rushing harshly in and out of her nostrils. She wants to cry out, wants to scream with the pure, unadulterated joy of her muscles contracting around him, but she succeeds in being silent. She catches a glimpse of his grin of blurry satisfaction above her, his eyes almost glimmering. Seeing him like this moves a surge of love so powerful through her the last pant turns into a shuddering gasp in her lungs. He kisses her to swallow it as she did his earlier sounds, his mouth warm and soothing.

Their blood and heart rates settle amongst lingering kisses and soft touching, both quietly nuzzling and murmuring to each other.

“I keep trying to tell you this is a bad idea every time we do it. One of these days we’re going to wake him,” she admonishes quietly, running her thumbs over his face. The scars on his cheeks are still faintly there—discernible only by touch. She’s certain by the end of the month they’ll be completely gone. He chomps at her and succeeds in snagging her index finger between his lips before she can pull her hands away.

“And yet I keep re-convincing you it’s a wonderful idea, and I certainly don’t hear you complaining,” he smiles playfully. She returns his grin, shivering as a gentle aftershock tremors once through her pelvis.

“That’s because you’re incorrigible,” she says, further mussing his already mussed hair. _And because I’m so fucking grateful to have you back_ , she neglects to say.

“Not because you love me and I completely rock your world?” he pouts. She nibbles at his chin.

“That as well,” she breathes against his mouth.


	55. Non-Verbal Oral Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Them having a conversation about work while full on making out and slowly grinding against each other

The patter of rain on a window glass. The creak of a couch.

“It’s possible, Scully. As a physics undergrad, you should know that.”

A soft smack as lips part. A huff of incredulity.

“Mulder, there have been cases before where a baby or a family pet has been lifted in the air by the violent winds of a tornado and deposited miles away unhurt. It doesn’t suggest undefinable phenomenon.”

A thumb casually (or maybe not so casually) brushes against a nipple hidden beneath an unbuttoned blouse and bra. A faint little feminine gasp from the owner. 

“Ah, but _hundreds_ of miles away, Scully? With no signs of a storm, windy or otherwise? Seems a little undefinable to me.”

A soft breath. The whisper of fingers combing through short-cropped dark hair.

“We’re weird, Mulder,” she muses, “discussing a case while making out.”

A subtle push of his groin against her thigh. The brush of stubble against a satiny earlobe.

“If it wasn’t such a turn on Scully, I’d care about that a lot more.”

A nuzzle against her cheek. A giggle in response.

“Besides, making out sounds juvenile to me. We’re more educated than that…we’re exercising non-verbal oral communication.”

A whisper of a chuckle. Another sigh. The soft sound of mouths meeting, then several minutes of quiet punctuated only by tiny breaths of pleasure.

“Well whatever the label, I like when you do that.”

Another push against her thigh. She moves her hips so they’re better aligned with his. He breathes through his nose and feels her heat through their stiff clothing.

“Undress me,” whispered quietly against his lips.

The light rasp of fingers against silk.The slight snap of an unhooked bra. The rustles increase when she picks up her end, slipping off his shirt and wrestling him free from his slacks. The brush of underwear sliding down respective hips. They sit entangled and naked on his couch.

A deep, hushed sigh of contentment as skin touches skin.

“Touch me,” exhaled into his mouth.

Fingertips drifting over shoulders, forearms, belly, breasts. A moan. Nails scraping through springy chest hair, over sun-caressed skin. A shudder.

“You’re beautiful,” whispered in unison.

A gasp. Heated breath in the curve of her clavicle.

“Shall we—” a kiss, “continue this—” another kiss, “lengthy discussion—” yet another kiss, “over breakfast tomorrow?”

“Yes,” a throaty murmur.

The creak of floorboards, the scuff of bare feet over matted carpeting. The door gently closes behind them.


	56. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: if you want fluff prompts i’m really feeling a “crazy thunder storm power is out guess we better cuddle and maybe mulder is a little afraid of thunder” kinda fic

He knocks at her motel door at 10:30pm just as she’s coming out of the bathroom, freshly showered and ready to crawl into bed.

“It’s open,” she calls quietly, and despite her welcome he enters carefully as though she’s asleep and he’s wary of waking her. He looks sheepish and warm and utterly irresistible. He’s also holding a pillow. Puzzled, she opens her mouth to question him but he beats her to the punch.

“You have permission to laugh but um…I’d really appreciate it if I could camp out here tonight.”

She’s instantly concerned, but she also can’t ignore the little flutter in her belly at the thought of sharing a room with him. She disregards it.

“What? Why?”

He looks even more sheepish now. He shifts nervously and she notices he’s barefoot beneath his dark plaid pajama pants. He looks…he looks so good. She’s caught between wanting to rip all his clothes off and snuggling against him like a baby spider monkey.

“I uh…Thunder always bothers me.” He leaves it there, unwilling or unable to go on.

In her focus to get ready for bed, she hadn’t even noticed the rumble of thunder and the splash of rain again the dark window. Sure enough, just as he finishes his sentence a blink of lightning flickers across her room, brightening the illumination of the lone bedside lamp before it completely kills the power.

She’s torn between poking fun at him (they’ve spent countless nights out of town during midwest storms and not once has he approached her with this revelation) and being sympathetic. She decides to err on the side of caution and picks the latter option. Ever since Sam. Ever since her own abduction. Naturally he’d have an aversion to the sounds of Mother Nature’s moans and cries. She gestures to the bed.

“This bed really is too big for one person,” she says warmly, and the look on his face tells her she’s made the right choice. He all but bounds onto her bed, tossing his own pillow to join hers and scrunching them into submission. He flops onto his back and sighs, all furry limbs and broad chest and boyish grin. When he looks at her she realizes she’s smiling.

She loves him.

She snaps the lamp off in case the power comes back before crawling into bed beside him, burrowing into the covers made more difficult by the six-foot-and-some-change man lying atop the quilt. But they manage lying side by side.

She tries not to notice that he automatically went to the side she doesn’t sleep on.

Hesitantly she reaches over, resting her hand atop his forearm. He doesn’t even flinch, as though he was expecting and welcoming it.

“I love the sound of storms, I always have,” she murmurs, her hand still resting lightly on his wrist, “When I was younger I used to sneak into Melissa’s room and we’d sit by the window and talk and count the seconds between the thunder.” She feels compelled to reach out to him emotionally…like hell they actually blatantly talk, but they sure are good at analogies and “I want to say something to you let me tell you about it via an anecdote”s.

“Yeah?” His voice bursts into the darkness and then is swallowed. She nods against her pillow.

“You know…I think one of my favorite things in the world is experiencing a bad storm late at night…you wake up from a deep sleep because of the thunder, you hear the pound of the rain and wind against the roof…and for a brief moment you feel so small, so humbled by the power of that dark world outside your bedroom.”

He’s silent, listening and relaxing. He’s warm and still beside her, and she suddenly has an overwhelming ache for him to turn and lay against her completely. She wants their legs tangling, their chests pressing, their breath blending.

“And all you have to do to make it go away is turn a little and feel that…special someone beside you. And you move next to them and you feel so safe…and suddenly you’re not so small anymore.”

She doesn’t know where this comes from, it’s not as though she speaks from experience…but it’s something she’d like to have with him. Something she DOES have with him.

“Few things are better than that,” she adds needlessly.

Finally, oh FINALLY, he rolls over and wraps his arms around her. He holds her as he’s never held her before: strong, warm, close and content. If he never lets go it will be too soon.

“I agree,” he grumbles somewhere behind her left ear. She closes her eyes and shudders, “I…Jesus Christ, you make me feel so safe, Scully.”

She wants to cry with the vulnerability in his voice. He sounds so trusting, so happy. To hell with their unspoken rules, to hell with that stupid near-kiss last summer that they never talk about…tonight she wants to be near him. She buries her face in his chest and snuggles into his as hard as she can. She can feel the brush of his leg hair against her bare feet, the hard iron of his arms around her, and the breeze of his breathing against her temple. She sighs just as he does.

“I’m here, Mulder,” she promises, and they both know she doesn’t just mean in that moment.

As she drifts off to sleep in his arms, she swears she hears him whisper, “I know.”


	57. Co-Pilot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> X-Files PornBattle Prompt #26: Scully giving Mulder a handjob in a car.

“My sweatpants are calling to me,” he jokes as the rental car engine grumbles to life beneath them.

“That surprisingly clean-looking bathtub is calling to me,” she volleys back as he pulls onto the highway in the direction of their temporary small-town quarters.

“Ooo now there’s an idea, partner. Would you believe me if I told you I called ahead to the motel to get us some fruit, champagne, and some fresh sheets?”

She doesn’t believe him for a second, but she can’t help but smile at the light-heart tone wrapped in the typical drone of his voice. It’s been an exhausting case, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He’s peppy, exuberant, every bit a man in love. She feels silly and daring and pretty darn in love herself. They’re in the honeymoon phase right now, but her history of wanting him for over seven years tells her that even after this phase has passed, she’ll still want him.

She’s happy. The case went well (as well as can be expected for their division), they don’t have to catch their flight until tomorrow afternoon, and she’s going to be having sex in however long it takes Mulder to drive them back to base camp. Something flips in her tummy and before she can change her own mind with reason, she reaches across the console and gently cups the ever-present bulge at the front of his pants. He jerks but manages to keep the car steady.

“Woah, Scully,” he chuckles shakily, “Uh—you’re liable to kill a man with that kind of behavior.”

She mock chuckles back but doesn’t reply, and instead unzips him, pulling him firm and velvety from the confines of his boxer briefs. She coos as he stiffens almost immediately in her hand, even as his knuckles turn white against the steering wheel.

“Scully…this could end…really badly if you’re not careful.”

“Goodness, Mulder—it’s not like you to be the practical one in this relationship,” she grins, letting her grip tighten slightly as she begins an upstroke. He lets out a sound that reminds her of a beached beluga whale. He’s fully erect now, warm and smooth against her caresses.  He’s such a big boy…and so easy.

“Scully, please…" he winces, sucking a breath in between his teeth, “Baby, it feels so good…you really need to stop.”

He’s already drooling in her hand, the raw heat of him burning against her palm. She can tell he’s rapidly approaching the danger zone because his slim hips have started minutely pulsing rhythmically with her strokes.

“Stop, then,” she murmurs, concentrating on wriggling her hand into his underwear to cradle his testicles.

“What?” he sounds a little panicked as he attempts a lane change and immediately jerks the car back to its original trajectory.

“Stop the car, then,” she clarifies, “Because I’m enjoying myself and I don’t intend to stop.”

“Oh, Jesus…” he practically whines and for a moment she wonders if she’s teasing him too much, but then he takes the first exit that appears, barreling the car down the off ramp. She keeps him on standby, gently stroking his tip with the pad of her thumb as he haphazardly takes them to a Plaid Pantry parking lot. The car jerks into a stall by the metal garbage disposal in the alleyway.

“Good driving, Mulder,” she teases, and lightly traces the delicate skin of his balls with her nails.

“Scully, have mercy,” He moans. His throat is arched and vulnerable. He missed shaving a patch on his neck this morning and she wants to lap at the rough skin like a jungle cat. He throws his head against the headrest, and she can see how much he had been holding back when he lets out a groan verging on a growl. She squeezes him once, followed by two quick strokes up his length. A bead of milky liquid seeps from his opening and she shivers.

“Feels so good…” he gasps, “God, it feels so good…” She feels like she’s rubbing him raw now, her hand a blur on his angry red cock, but there’s no way she’s stopping now—not with that blind, rapturous look on his face. His hands are still grasping the steering wheel with a grip that would crush titanium. She gently scratches his balls again.

“Scully, God, Scully!” He comes without warning, spurting two solid shots onto his stomach and chest and oozing the rest over her hand. She watches his Adam’s apple bob as he wheezes, whispering her name between shuddering breathes. She massages him as he comes down, murmuring nonsense and feeling far more pleased with herself than perhaps she ought to be. It takes him a few minutes, but he finally turns to smile dozily at her. His hair is spiked and messy at the back, his eyes glassy.

“Scully?” The hair at his temples is plastered against his scalp with sweat. Her panties are sticking to her crotch. She pops open the glove compartment and hands him a couple of Subway napkins after grabbing some for herself. His hands are trembling as he takes them from her.

“Yes, Mulder?”

“Payback’s a bitch,” He dabs ineffectively at his shrinking cock, then at the milky stain blending into his shirt. Even when he’s spent, he’s still smooth and long and she half wishes she’d paused just enough to slip her mouth around him earlier.

“Promises, promises,” she grins. He shakes his head groggily, and her heart flips a bit when she sees an attempt at a devious leer touch the corner of his mouth.

“Not so,” he mumbles, fumbling himself back into his boxers and slacks, “I really did call the motel half an hour ago…champagne and fresh sheets await, m’lady.”

“Don’t forget the fruit.”

He says nothing, merely smirking and running the tip of his tongue slowly against his bottom lip before the car rumbles to life again. Her heart pounds for the rest of the drive.


	58. Jealousy IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you write an aggressive, jealous, forward, sexy Scully? Instead of backing off when she sees someone else after Mulder she just like.... takes him....

_“Hey, have you seen that tall cop guy yet? The one with the sad eyes?”_

_“Oh man, and the nice hair? Hell yeah. There’s sex on a stick for yah.”_

_“I was thinking of feelin’ him out…seeing if he might want to have coffee or something.”_

_“Girl. Do it. He’s such a babe.”_

_“I’m totally gonna.”_

Vapid. That’s the only word that comes to Scully’s mind when she thinks about catching that conversation. It’s been less than twelve hours since she heard those two twenty-somethings in the dinky little coffee shop where she and Mulder had stopped to get some coffee. Less than twelve hours since she heard those two twits discussing the attractiveness of her partner and it’s been driving her nuts all this time.

She can’t wait to leave this town. She knows she and Mulder have at least three more day’s worth of investigative work left to do on this case (not to mention two autopsies waiting for her at the morgue), and even though they’re staying in a relatively nice motel, she wants to be anywhere but here. She wants to be far away from vapid, federal employee-hungry twits.

She’s being childish and she knows it.

She’s tired and could definitely use some rest (they’re sharing a room but have separate beds…not that both of them have been used, mind you), but a part of her is masochistically enjoying the torture of wondering if the airhead with the bleached pink streak in her hair really did ask Mulder out. An even more masochistic part of her wonders what his response was if she had.

 _Look at him, sitting on the bed flipping through files._ He’s wearing those stupid glasses again. Looking so studious and academic and _fuckable_.

_Ugh._

He’s in a soft, well-worn tee shirt and sweatpants, his hair damp and finger combed from his shower. She knows his skin is particularly downy after he’s freshly bathed, and she just wants to rub her face all over his arms and chest. She loves that no matter how loose his pants are, she can always see a little evidence of that warm, thrumming muscle between his thighs.

God, she wants him so bad. Does possessiveness have a bit to do with it? Maybe. But it is true that she wants him just about all the time.

She slinks onto the bed beside him and he looks up absently, smiling in acknowledgement of her presence. She leans over him, and her face must have an expression of intensity because he pauses for a beat, his head slightly cocked.

“You okay?” he murmurs. She nods, kissing him, slipping her tongue into the heated wet cavern of his mouth. Yum, he just brushed his teeth. He tastes like salt and Crest.

“I want you,” she breathes against his lips.

He makes a low, growling “mmm” sound deep in his chest and without hesitation tosses the file and his glasses onto the bedside table. His groan is equal parts content and welcoming whatever action she has in mind…which is just as well, because she’s decided he’s hers for the taking tonight.

His arms come around her and she deposits the majority of her weight into his lap. He’s so warm and elegantly masculine. She wants to bury herself in him. Curl up against his chest like a kitten and nip his chin and knead his chest and bury her claws in him because he’s _mine, mine, MINE…_

“I want you…” she repeats on murmur, “I want you so bad…”

With no preamble she gently pulls the waistband of his sweatpants down, and represses a shiver. Just seeing the thick thatch of his pubic hair and the deep red of his erection is enough to send a blood-warm, wet pulse between her legs.

She wrestles her leggings and panties off and even the brush of his knuckles against her curls as she slides him inside is enough to make her tremble. He pauses for a moment and she can tell he’s surprised they’re skipping the foreplay tonight, especially when she knows he so loves that aspect of their sexual relationship. She’s without need of it this time. She’s had twelve hours worth of self-administered foreplay torturing herself today.

She pumps herself against him, relishing the hitch in his breath, the grip of his fingers against her back, the hardness of his thighs beneath hers.

“Just so you know, Scully,” his breath is suddenly hot and moist against her collarbone, “I turned her down.”

There’s something about his tone—not quick challenging, but definitely as if he’s daring her to wonder why the hell he’d be tempted to go somewhere else—that goes straight to where she lives. She moans, staring at the point where he disappears into her body. It’s so visceral, so deep-rooted, so animal. So _hot_.

“Unhh,” the noise is more like the soft push of air against her throat rather than a vocalization. He’s hers, utterly and completely, and she suddenly feels stupid for even thinking otherwise. She grinds against his pelvis trying to wrestle out her orgasm, but he stops her with hands on her hips, his thumbs gently pressing into her sides.

“You never, _ever_ have to worry, Scully,” he mumbles into her hair, “I promise.”

Her head tilts back and she beams blissfully as she flutters and convulses around him.

For the first time in twelve hours she can breathe.


	59. Undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I just really love undercover msr for some reason and I felt we didn't get enough of it. could u write a dirty fic involving undercover msr?

Things are different this time from Arcadia. Lighter. When he tells you you’re going undercover you grin and ask if you should get your hair and nails done. Also, is his name going to be Rob again?

He slides a lengthy form towards you and you look at it, puzzled. It’s completely filled out except for one space at the very top.

“You told me you were going to pick the names next time,” he grins. You love him.

///

It’s a nice house—smaller than the one in California, but well-furnished and roomy. He gives you enough space but you find yourself searching for excuses to spend time with him offduty. He’s a surprisingly good housemate this time. He leaves his dirty clothes off the bed, takes out the trash, insists on drying the dishes even though you tell him half of the work is taken care of when they’re washed in the machine. He laughs and throws a dishtowel at you.

You can’t tell if it’s because things are healthier this time around, or if you’re just relieved to be doing something different, but you’re so _relaxed_ during this case. Of course you have to be alert and watchful and insightful of everything going on around you, but you can’t remember enjoying working with him this much. Maybe not since the earlier years of your partnership.

You hate that you sleep in separate rooms, but you love that the first thing you see in the morning is him brewing you a cup of coffee in the kitchen wearing nothing but sweatpants and messy hair. Oh, and a sleepy smile that makes you feel like you’re the only woman who has ever seen him like this.

///

You relax after a mind-numbing and exhausting day of surveillance. You cook together. He makes the most amazingly rich and velvety corn-off-the-cob soup that makes you sigh in appreciation. He pulls faces while he eats the Caesar salad you mixed, but you notice he finishes it. You poke him in the shin with your bare toes and he threatens to bite them off.

The tease turns you on more than you’d ever admit to him. Sober, anyway.

///

You make a small joke during after-dinner coffee, but instead of laughing, he kisses you. And it’s so natural. You sigh happily and kiss him back, even as every fear you’ve come up with over the years relating to being with him flutters around in the back of your head like nagging moths. You can’t seem to coax up the energy to worry about them now, not when his mouth is so insistent and hot and wet.

You’ve considered this moment. Even as you were packing for this case you wondered if this was inevitable, that the two of you would somehow find each other. That living together in the same space as man and wife would provide the security and setting to finally, _finally_ admit how much you enjoy being with each other.

He’s desperate, but so gentle. So incredibly gentle. But he’s not tentative with you: he leaves no doubt in your mind that you’re wanted and loved and needed. You do everything you can with touch and taste and words to show him that he is all of that to you as well and more.

///

“Fuck me like I’m really your wife,” you whisper at one point against the cords of his throat, and you want to laugh because you know that is likely one of the least sexy things you have ever said.

But clearly he disagrees.

Because he goes mad. With a whimper and a roll of his eyes that makes him look positively possessed, he heeds your provocation, drilling into your body and deeper into your heart than you’ve ever thought possible.

 _He’s thought about this,_ you realize as he sobs into your neck, _he’s fantasized and dreamed and thought about this just as much as you._

///

He doesn’t let go of you afterwards, and though you’ve never been a cuddler you are so, so, so happy he wants to hold you. He’s warm and tender and strong, and you somehow know that despite the desperation of fifteen minutes ago, you have always been precious cargo beneath his touch.

“I wanted this in San Diego,” he whispers into the coil of your ear, his breath brushing the strands of hair at your temple, “We were in such an ugly place, but don’t think I didn’t hate every single night that I didn’t sleep next to you.”

You can’t help but smile, thinking about how distant and fragmented you were back then, how close and secure you are now. You nestle deeper into his embrace like a baby cat.

“I’m glad we’re here,” you breathe. And you fall asleep like that.


	60. I Guess You Did Miss Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: During season of secret sex or at least during relationship....either one had been sent out to the field for a few weeks, are missing each other terribly--what happens at the airport when s/he picks him/her up and is a little wanton...?

She can’t sit still. Airport terminal seats are never comfortable, but the ache in her chest and the butterflies in her stomach makes sitting prim and proper even more difficult than it already is. Her partner’s coming back today. One thousand three hundred something miles away for a week and a half, and he’s coming back today.

She checks her watch. Twenty minutes left. The last time she checked the landing table (seven times in the past hour), his plane was listed as << On Schedule >> in big green letters. He’s so close. After a week and a half, he’s so close.

Twenty minutes left until she can see him. Twenty minutes until she can give him a Welcome Back Hug (and a Jesus I Missed You Kiss if she’s feeling particularly daring) and pick up his luggage and drive him to her apartment where a hot shower and a slow cooker meal is waiting for them. She doesn’t care that they talked almost every evening that he was gone, he wasn’t _here_.

She’s never been like this before, has never ached with the thought of just being _near_ someone again. Even if he’s too tired to make love tonight she doesn’t care, they can watch some shitty TV on her couch and they’ll fall into bed and she’ll kiss him goodnight as she snuggles into his arms because _finally he’ll be back_.

Last night was almost unbearable. All she could think about was his warm, wet mouth and his big, rough hands and his strong, firm chest. She needs his soft hair between her fingers and his hips between her thighs and his lips on her nipple. She wants to kiss him, wants to nuzzle his neck, wants to gently pull on the soft hair on his chest.

She’s practically vibrating in her seat.

She idly watches as people slowly board in batches over at the next terminal. She wonders how many are going home, how many will be held in welcoming arms as they drift off to sleep after a tiring stint of travel.

He probably didn’t eat enough during his trip. Or if he did, it was probably Burger King and Carl’s Junior. And she is _certain_ he didn’t get enough sleep…especially not last Wednesday night, where they talked for three hours and she got so worked up she started whimpering his name into the phone…

She closes her eyes, breathes steadily. She’s going to force herself not to look at her watch again. Every time she does it seems like it adds thirty more minutes onto her wait time.

“Jeez, you’re not even watching the door for when I come out? I bet you didn’t even bring me flowers.”

She’s startled, whips around, and the goosebumps that rise on her skin tell her who that deep, droning voice belongs to. He looks so tired; at least two days without a shave and he must have fallen asleep on the plane because one side of his hair is simultaneously flattened and spiked. His tie is crooked, but his eyes and mouth are soft with a welcome. Without a word she springs up and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his collar.

Oh, he smells the same—a slight tinge of bleach and cheap airline seating compromises his scent, but he’s there—warm and musky and homey. She kisses his earlobe, his scruffy cheekbone, and his upper lip. She can feel his huff of surprise against her chest before he drops his duffel and bends over. His embrace practically crushes her rib cage and she wants to giggle with delight. She’s trembling, she’s so excited.

“I guess you did miss me,” he muses into her hair, and she detects a very subtle touch of wonder in his voice. She can feel him, hard and warm against her tummy through his slacks and she shivers. _Oh joy, oh rapture, she’s not going to bed alone tonight…_

“Feels like you missed me, too,” she grins, cupping his tired face in her hands. He chuckles sheepishly but doesn’t deny it or move away. He wants her to know that he’s been aching, too. She reaches over and picks up his duffel.

“Come on,” she jerks her head in the directly of the lot she’s parked her car, a good quarter mile walk away, “There’s a warm apartment and a home cooked meal waiting for you.”

“Uh uh,” he grabs her arm, “Not till I get a welcome home kiss.”

Smiling, she obliges.


	61. Desperate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully’s is pretty desperate during the first time they fool around cuz it’s been awhile for her, and Mulder’s shocked and very into it.

The reality is a little different from how she’s envisioned it…and she’s envisioned it _a lot_. She’d be smooth, calm, and sultry; in control but by no means lacking eagerness. He’d be hopeful and shaky, his trembling hands blatantly displaying the desire and lust for her that he’s tamped down for years. He’d stutter, maybe sweat a little, she’d smile reassuringly with a couple butterflies in her tummy. She’s as completely unflappable in sex as she is in real life.

The reality? She’s utterly consumed. They’re not doing anything serious tonight, both having agreed a couple weeks back to take things slow, but something has gotten into her lately. It’s beyond not having had sex in a while, it’s _him_. He’s gotten into her bloodstream somehow and it’s stimulating her in ways that can only be soothed by sucking on his tongue and grinding against his crotch. Mulder however seems to be taking it in stride, his touch firm but tender, measured and calculated; his kisses heartfelt but restrained.

She loves and needs him so much, it’s beginning to hurt.

She knows he wants her. Ooh boy, does she know he wants her…he’s warm and hard and bulging against her cleft in what feels like about fifteen layers too many of clothes. He’s doing this delicious thing where he pulses his hips into her groin every time he draws his hands up and down her back, and little surges and shocks are lighting at the base of her skull with each micro thrust.

So here she is, positioned quite comfortably on his lap in his apartment, and she’s about five seconds away from snapping like a scissor-snipped violin string. And they still have all of their clothes on.

“Scully,” her name comes out on a chuckle as she paws at his fly, “Easy, babe, _easy_ …what’s gotten into you tonight?”

Coming from anyone else, she would have clambered off their lap and called them out on the patronizing language and tone. But he says it so warmly, with so much devotion, she can’t help but melt at his attempt to intercept her.

If he just wasn’t so damn delicious, she’d be able to keep her cool. But instead she feels ashamed and embarrassed of her uncharacteristic behavior. She’s never been like this, even in her younger days when sex was exhilarating and new and she first discovered how good intimacy with another person could feel. She knows he sees her unintentional nonverbal display when his face moves from mild bemusement to affectionate understanding, and her frustration and arousal culminates in an aggravating need to cry. His big, warm hands cup her face.

“Are you okay tonight?” his voice is husky and low, “You seem aggravated or…something.”

The way he’s holding her in his lap, the way his palms cradle her face makes her feel simultaneously small but cherished. She can’t look at him and instead curls into his chest.

“Mulder I’m sorry, I…I just want this so much,” she confesses against his neck, a flush spreading over her throat at the discomfort but necessity of opening herself emotionally, “It’s been so long for me, there are new feelings I’ve never experienced that I’ve had to hold back, and now that there’s a crack in the dike—”

“—Everything’s coming flooding out,” she can feel him smile against her temple as he completes her thought. She nods and lets out a steadying breath. The talking is helping, but her heart is still pounding. He leans so she pulls back and is looking at him again. His eyes roam all over her face and she waits for him to say something more. He reaches out, tracing her upper lip slowly with his index finger. He’s still hard and pressed snugly against her clothed-and very-disgruntled-about-it clit.

“That’s why I want us to take our time,” he reveals, “This is a big deal for us, and it’s overwhelming in a lot of ways. I don’t want to jump into it because I feel like we’d miss out on so much. If, however, you’d rather we just go ahead and—”

“No,” she interrupts, pressing her palm to the heat of his chest, “No, I want to go slow, we both agreed on it and I think it’s a good idea. I’m just…this is taking a hold of me a little more than I thought it would.”

“I like it,” he rumbles, his fingernails dragging up and down her jean-clad thighs straddling his, “How lucky am I to see the passionate side of Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully?”

“Passionate?” she snorts, rubbing his pecs through his well-worn Henley, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that one.” Her dubiousness seems to amuse him, because he grins and nods.

“Of course you’re passionate,” he insists, his touch flowing from her legs to her shoulders and arms, “You’re fierce and loyal and stubborn and you unabashedly stand up for what you believe in. All of those traits exhibit some form of fire that comes from your spirit. You’re incredibly passionate, Scully…beautifully so. You’re a _redhead_ for God’s sake.”

She laughs with that remark, and some of the pressure, some of the tension, releases from her body.

“Don’t be afraid to show that to me, okay?” he whispers, “Because I love it.”

She wriggles deeper into his lap and he grasps her hips, keeping her there.

“Now where were we?” His tone is like molten gravel.

“Right about here,” she breathes against his lips.


	62. Caught in the Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: There was one time where Skinner saw them fucking.... he was a bit jealous, turned on, but also happy for them

By the time I leave the hotel conference room at 9:38pm, my agents have long disappeared. I don’t blame them. It’s been a long exhausting day of panels, lectures, and presentations, and unfortunately we’ll be at it again for a good twelve hours tomorrow. 

I know Mulder hates these conferences—he only goes because he knows I’ll bawl him out if he doesn’t. Either that or he does it to avoid having to hear his partner outline why attending them is necessary. Either way, he’s been taking part in them for the last few years with nary a complaint or remark. Thank God for Agent Scully, I swear. The woman’s been due for a pay upgrade for a while now just for working in the same room with Fox Mulder.

As I trudge down the hotel hallway to my room, I realize I can’t remember if I’m 1116 or 1118.

Oh whatever, one of them is bound to be right.

The door is curiously loose when I grab the knob, and before I can even fit the key card into the slot, it nudges open a couple of feet.

The first thing I see is a bare back—lean, muscled and tanned—held up by wiry shoulders and arms in a lightly mussed bed. The man’s position immediately establishes what is going on. It also establishes that this is _clearly_ not my room, but before the occupant can notice my entrance—or before I can even utter an embarrassed apology—I recognize the dark haircut. And I recognize the aurora of red hair that is his bed partner. And I recognize her soft, rose-dusted skin.

It’s Mulder and Scully. Fucking.

I’m honestly not as surprised as I thought I’d be…I’m sure these two have been tearing each other’s clothes off since the first year of their partnership. I’m frequently pretty clueless when it comes to…sexual chemistry (?)…but whenever the two of them are in a room together, their magnetism is absolutely undeniable. Mulder’s a good looking and incredibly intelligent guy when he’s not being an insufferable ass. And Scully is… _Jesus_. Scully is everything any man with two brain cells to rub together should want.

It makes sense that a man and a woman like that with constant contact would shack up. But damn, the fools were so ready to jump into bed tonight they didn’t even manage to shut the door all the way. I can even seen a handful of clothing items scattered on the floor leading the way to the bed.

I’m getting too old for this shit. What “this shit” entails is up for clarification, but I do know I’m too old for it. I need to leave.

I reach for the door latch, intending to shut it completely and I’m already drafting up an email to these two in my head regarding the confines of civil service behavior but…

But something makes me stop and—against my better judgement—look again. Not because of the sight of Dana Scully’s naked body (okay not completely, anyway), but because of the scene that’s unfolding before me.

For the majority of my adult life, I’ve classified sex, fucking, making love, what have you all under the same umbrella. There’s little if no difference to me, and I’d be willing to bet it’s the same for most people with my age and experience.

There’s not a chance in the world that Agent Mulder and Agent Scully are fucking. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

What I’m seeing isn’t fucking.

They’re making love.

And it hits me right in the pit of my stomach.

His hands are all over her with each deep, steady thrust. He’s brushing her hair back, cupping her breasts, dragging his fingertips smoothly down her ribs. At one point he pulls her arms up above her head and drifts his touch down her forearms and biceps before sliding his hands under her shoulders to bring her closer.

All the while she’s smiling up at him with such pure, quiet, hungry joy and I _guarantee_ she’s seeing the same expression from him. I’ve never witnessed such a bald display of devotion on a human being’s face. I almost hate myself for the twinge of jealousy that tightens the base of my throat, knowing there’s no way I will ever experience something like this. But considering the hell these two have been through numerous times and the losses they’ve suffered…I think it’d be safe to say they deserve it.

Her breath suddenly hitches and he pauses for a moment.

“This okay, Scully?”

She nods, wriggles her hips beneath him to push him into action again and it takes everything in me not to groan at her sensuous little move.

“So good, Mulder,” I hear her murmur, “…so good…”

This is too much. I’ve already been here too long, and his use of her name just pulled me back into the awareness of how messed up this scenario is. They _work_ for me, for God’s sake…and my pants are way too tight for _any_ circumstance involving my subordinates.

I hear one soft, breathy moan from her as I cautiously step back and pull the door back to its original position, careful not to shut it completely and divert their attention from each other. I head back to my room a few doors down, still exhausted but a little more heartened for the human race than I was a few minutes ago.


	63. First Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully wakes from a wet dream about her partner, the phone rings. plot twist, they just came back from their first case in Oregon.

She knows she’s dreaming, but she doesn’t have the wherewithal to care: this is the best dream she’s ever had. Even better than when she was nineteen and full of passionate albeit tightly hidden hopes of an affair even remotely comparable to those cultivated by Brontë and Gaskell and Austen. This is beyond anything she could have possibly imagined in her most fanciful moments.

God, she’s never been kissed or touched with such passion before. This is fire, molten lava, thunder and rain all at once. Ethan doesn’t doesn’t kiss like this— _no one_ in her life has ever kissed her like this. She’s never known such hunger, her body has never been so open and accepting and welcoming to such raw sensations. It’s like she’s truly feeling for the first time.

There’s no face she can see, just a consuming presence and the warmth of a wordless grumble caressing the whorls of her ears. His hair is soft, his hands rough but careful. He’s so much bigger than her, and even in her dream state she’s conscious enough to ignore the significance of how powerless and safe she feels beneath him. She’s hypersensitive with need, she can feel every little tendon in his wrist, every little hair on his belly as she clamps her legs around his hips.

She’s going to come. His wet, plush mouth is on her breast and she’s actually about to co—

The soft click of a minute passing jolts her into complete alertness, and for a moment she’s completely misaligned with where she is. Has she even been asleep? She feels like all she did was blink. She can feel herself throbbing with the ache of an orgasm unrealized and rapidly fading.

Her phone trills and a crease of surprise forms between her brows as she lifts the receiver without question. Even without consciously acknowledging it, she knows who is calling her at 11:22 at night.

“Hello?”

It’s her supervisory agent at the other end, telling her he hasn’t been able to sleep. He’s spoken with the D.A.’s office in Raymond County, Oregon only to discover there’s no case file on Billy Miles.

“The paperwork we filed is gone,” her panties are wet, and her breath catches with his softly grumbled words, “We need to talk, Scully.”

“Y-yes,” she mumbles, “Tomorrow.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye.

It’s only now, after hearing his voice scratchy and tinny at the other end of the line, that she remembers the one word her phantom lover had murmured to her, hot and damp against her neck.

_“Scully…”_

She knows she won’t be getting any sleep tonight.


	64. The Road Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: post s11 msr had a night out on the town and now literally can’t keep their hands off each other and stumble in the front door kissing. sex on a furniture item of your choice ensures.
> 
> Combining with Prompt: M&S on a night out on the town, and M discovers she isn’t wearing any underwear and they have a quickie in a dark hallway or corner.
> 
> Author note: S11. No pregnancy. No series finale nonsense.

Her breath is warm and scented with the soft tartness of red wine. The mist of it puffs against his neck beneath his ear and he smiles.

They’re slowly finding their way back to each other, it’s so close he can practically taste it on the tip of his tongue like the sharp sting of pop rocks. She smiles so much more, her eyes reflective over their past but also calm and welcoming. She accepts his touch and his shy attempts at old humor, gives him only cursory eye rolls at his theories.

During the process of finding their balance in their work, they’ve been climbing and chipping towards dealing with their problems like adults. Repression is no longer an option; avoidance has been made impossible. Therapy appointments have been made and kept. Ways of life have been changed. Schedules altered. Medication taken. They are no longer the haphazard and slightly-psychotic (maybe that was mostly him, frankly) youth they once were—now they have been shattered and resettled.

Lately he has begun reaping the benefits of these months of healing and the striving for redemption: she has been welcoming him back in steady leaps and bounds.

So now he’s dropped her off at her much nicer house, _trying_ to say good night (no really), but she’s completely occupied with nuzzling and nibbling his right ear as they stand in her entryway. He’s not exactly fighting her off; he has to bend over for her to reach and he’s doing everything he can to help her.

“That was nice,” she breathes against his skin, and he doesn’t know if she’s referring to their completed date, the kiss that has been extending on for the past three minutes, or how he’s been kneading her ass for the past two.

“Mmgood,” he murmurs, and tastes her soft mouth again. He can feel her smile against his lips.

“Want a nightcap?” Her voice is molten sex. He hasn’t been pushing her or even _asking_ her for fear that he’ll spook her…but he knows Scully (hopefully “ _his Scully_ ” again someday soon). And he knows a blatant come on from her when he hears one.

“Maybe, what do you have?” he plays along, squeezing her round little ass. She presses against his groin and makes a soft squeak like a kitten.

“I’m not sure, but I’m not wearing any underwear,” she practically moans this, as though she’s been aching to reveal this bit of pertinent information all night. He has to close his eyes tightly to prevent himself from either passing out or groaning like a boar. She’s been in this sleek, elegant, perfect black dress, draping over her smooth shoulders, cradling those breasts and topping those sweet little knees. And now he finds out she’s been cupped and caressed by the cool night air for the past three hours. He wants to die.

“God Scully you can’t tell a man a problem like that and not expect him to want to help you with it,” he tries to tease her weakly. She laughs quietly through her nose and whispers that she wouldn’t have said something otherwise.

She’s beautiful and fragrant and so _different_ from how she was before, but the same in all the ways that count. She still pants and sighs when she’s turned on, she still digs her nails into his shoulders and back as he kisses and laps at her soft belly, she still tenses and clenches in that beautiful way when she comes undone in his arms on her beautiful creme linen couch.

He lays gasping within her grip as he recovers his breath, her fingers combing soft and reflective as she lays beside him in silence. He knows she’s contemplative and he will let her be so. He doesn’t know if he will be spending the night or if she will want space in her bed, but he does know that they’ve made a step in the right direction, and that is comfort to him.


	65. Take Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: scully puts the moves on mulder post-millennium. mulder teases her: ow scully you’re hurting my arm, you’re so rough with me, be careful or my doctor’s gonna be mad ;)
> 
> Also combining with Prompt: Scully kissed Mulder first

He’s sitting on her couch, looking every bit like the gorgeous, infuriating, enriching, lovable man that he is. She relishes him in a suit, but by God…civilian Fox Mulder is a sight to behold. Something about him in a heather gray tee shirt and well-worn jeans makes him look particularly tasty. 

Tonight was a big deal. They’ve been doing this dance for years now…maybe even since the very day they met. That simmering, thrumming tension that she knows would mean magic if they just took that tiny little step forward. He’s got a sweating bottle of Arizona loosely clasped in those long, beautiful fingers as he sits on her couch, and she wants them on her skin instead. So much of him is composed of mismatched, misaligned pieces that meld perfectly with the rigid, unshakable parts of her.

The facts? She wants to kiss him again. Actually not again, because it wasn’t _really_ a kiss and even if it was, he was the one who did it first. She wants a real one. He looks so _gentle_ sitting there. Calm and quiet and warm and it’s fraying her nerves a little.

“Sip of iced tea for your thoughts?” He teases her, bringing her mind back to fully acknowledge him. It’s so late, it’s half past one in the morning on New Years Eve. She doesn’t even know why she brought him back to her place, unless she’s operating under the guise of keeping an eye on him tonight. Despite being released from the hospital and—with the exception of his arm in a sling—looking no worse for wear, she’s always ready to observe for head injury. It comes with the territory of being partnered to Mulder.

That timid, quiet, closed-mouthed nudge at the hospital has bolstered her courage. Instead of answering him immediately she steps forward, not breaking eye contact. He seems comfortable under her scrutiny, almost welcoming it, and he offers the drink to her with his uninjured arm.

“I want you to kiss me as if you know I’d like it.”

It’s out before she can stop herself, and she sees his expression and outstretched arm falter. He doesn’t look startled, but she’s certain she has his attention. He chuckles nervously.

“Uh Scully—”

She takes the Arizona and plunks it on her coffee table, clambering silently onto his lap. She feels his entire body clench in preparation for her proximity, but she notices with no small pleasure that he automatically rests the hand not cocooned in a sling atop her warm thigh. She smiles and plucks playfully at the strap of his wrapping.

“Woah, woah!” he chuckles again, “Careful. You know my doctor’s an uptight one—if you’re rough she’s going to get mad at me.”

“You’re dodging,” she dares, “I know you’re the impulsive one but you also don’t do anything unless you believe in your heart and soul that it’s right.”

The awkward nervousness leaves his face, and he’s gazing at her now without pretense. The room is dark except for the living room lamp and the light from her stove top in the kitchen. They’re surrounded by blue and shadows, but his hair and face is bathed in an orange and hazy glow.

“You’re right,” he professes, his voice gritty and grave, “But just because I’m sure doesn’t mean that the parties involved are ready to agree with me. You’ve worked with me long enough to know that.”

She wants to smile, wants to scoff at his statement in order to reassure him, but he’s right. Up until now, she hasn’t been sure. This was the sign she’s been looking for that shoves every bit of doubt, apprehension, and anxiety aside.

“I want to take this slow,” she confesses, “I want to do it right.”

“Oh, believe me,” he laughs inwardly, “If I have my way and get to do all the things I want to do to you, it will have to be without a sling. We’ll take our time…we’re good at that.”

For the first time that night she loses some of her put upon boldness and blushes in his arms.

“Can I kiss you?” She whispers, not recognizing her own voice. It’s fluttery and weak, as though instead of sound she’s speaking in heartbeats.

“What do you think?” is his answer.


	66. Too Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: do you know any fics about mulder ejaculating way too early? like he's just so excited to be with scully and he's embarrassed, but she thinks its cute

It happens before he can even stop it; before he can even think about it, really.

_Wait. No way. No, there’s no way._

For one brief, hopeful moment, he thinks he can curb it; thinks he can halt the surge of overwhelming pleasure that moves through his body. For a second it works, and he rejoices in the trembling relief of a false alarm, but it’s a short-lived success. Her sweet little hand brushes against the fly of his jeans right as she nuzzles his ear, and with a quiet grunt he comes like a teenager.

_Oh no. Please no._

In his pants.

Despite the burning shame that blares like a panic alarm in his brain, he can’t deny how utterly pleasurable it is. She’s all sweet breath and warm kisses, and it’s hands down one of the top five orgasms he’s had in his life. So so incredibly good and so so incredibly horrible. The slow breath he lets out is seven years worth of sweet relief.

Right as he comes off the tail-end, she seems to realize what has happened, because she draws away, an adorable look of puzzlement on her face. The crease between her brows disappears into comprehension.

A soft little, “oh..!”

_Shit._

A pause. A painful, humiliating pause. She nibbles her lip and looks at him, as if to silently ask what she should do next. As if he’s supposed to know.

“Mulder,—”

“Please, Scully,” his voice is so hoarse, “Please don’t. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

She deserves so much more than this. His first real chance to show her how he feels and he can’t handle a session of heavy petting on her couch. He hadn’t even finished unbuttoning her blouse. So much for hours of foreplay and lovemaking, he can’t even last fifteen minutes with his clothes on. What a loser.

He expects a grimace of disappointment on her flushed face. He expects a look of pity. For a brief moment he wonders if she’s going to spout out something completely patronizing and uncharacteristic like “you poor baby”. But of course Scully always keeps him guessing.

Instead she blushes. She fucking _blushes_. A little smile on the corner of her lip and she can’t meet his eyes.

“…Scully?” She giggles and finally looks up at him, and she has the nerve to look delighted. Is he missing something, here? He squirms uncomfortably at her scrutiny, his release already growing clammy in his underwear. Yuck.

“Oh, Mulder,” nothing but warmth in her voice, and she still has that unbelievable glimmer in her eye, “You really know how to flatter a girl.”

He feels the blood rush under his collar, he’s so embarrassed and ashamed. He rests his hands on her hips and words start tumbling out of his mouth. She listens, her eyes gentle and her hands clasped loosely at the back of his neck. She smells so good.

“It’s you,” he confesses, “You’re soft and warm and real and I just…I couldn’t handle it. It’s _you_ , Scully. And despite how many times I can imagine and plan and think out all the ways I can flawlessly do this, I’m just…I’m out of practice. Between you being you and…I’m out of practice.”

He chokes on his own tirade. She’s still looking at him, nestled in his lap and quietly listening without any derision or criticism. Somehow it makes him feel worse. She should be sprawled on the bed amidst tangled sheets with her voice gone and her skin dewy with sweat, not calmly listening to his dumb excuses for why he has the self-control of a seventeen-year-old virgin.

“I’m sorry, you deserve better. I’m such a—”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, her gentle fingers combing soothingly through his hair, rubbing at his tensed temples, “Don’t you dare. I meant it. I’m flattered.”

He doesn’t like it.

“I can do better,” he promises, trying to keep the plaintive tone out of his voice and failing. She leans in, pressing a tender kiss to his mouth.

“I know you can,” she breathes against his lips, “And I’ll make sure you get lots of chances to prove it.”


	67. This is for Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: New relationship, candlelight, soft kisses, breast worship, passionate sex

This is for her.

Every touch across her downy skin that raises the sweetest little goosebumps, every whispered promise against each butterscotch freckle, every kiss against a faint wrinkle or dimple is a promise, a vow.

For all the time he’s ignored her, for all the times he’s unthinkingly belittled her or doubted her logic, for all the times he’s accused her of making it _personal_. He wants to give back, wants to do a little something more than just “make it up” to her. He doesn’t want mere benediction, he wants her to feel worshiped.

He’ll never feel worthy of her, but he’ll try his damnedest to make her feel as good as she ever has by another man’s hand. (He knows she would follow this line of reasoning with a whispered denial, a profession of his true worth, and soft fingers combing possessively through his hair. The thought just makes him want to soothe and skim and drift across her all the more).

He honestly didn’t know if she’d like the candles, but it was the only thing he could think of that makes her apartment smell as good as it does. He’d gone out and bought an obscene amount of tea lights, ranging anywhere in scent from “ocean spray” to “almond mocha”. She had to like at least _one_ of them, and honestly he couldn’t wait to see the way her hair would glow in the light once he opened to door to her following a request for movies and take-out.

The way she’d gasped, “Oh my…Mulder!” when she walked into his apartment hinted that maybe he’s finally on his way to doing something right. She’d looked and marveled and pressed her fingers against her lips to hide a smile of quiet delight. And then she’d kissed him, took his hand within her soft grasp, and pulled him into his bedroom.

Her breasts are smooth and cool beneath his lips and he warms them with kisses and nuzzles. Usually she’s quiet in bed, so it makes it all the more rewarding when he hears a soft murmur and a weak little sigh escape her throat. He knows there’s more of her to love that he fumblingly unwrapped earlier, but he can’t get past the soft mounds of flesh that he swears were created to perfectly fit within his palms. All he can see is brown-sugar-dusted skin and the sweetest pink nipples to ever bead against his tongue.

“Feels good,” she purrs. He smiles against the slope of her rib cage.

“Good.”

“Want more…” she breathes, “I want more.”

His heart flips and his dick twinges, hearing the desire and the need in that dreamy, husky tone she gets when she’s feeling really, really good.

He gives her left breast a soft lick for good measure, and the right one a gentle kiss, before beginning to move down the sleek lines of her body. His fingers barely brush across the soft tuft of hair guarding her mons before she grabs his arm, trying to pull him up again.

“No,” when she whines he wants to laugh—she sounds more hungry than petulant, and that’s the only reason he doesn’t, “I want _more_ …”

Oh. Okay. He can do that for his baby. _Anything_ for his baby. ~~She’d rip his balls off if he ever said that out loud to her.~~

“God,” he husks, the pleasure almost inconceivable as she grips him, slides him inch by torturous inch into her slick heat. Her whispered “oh…” as she falls limply back is like a breath of wind across a dusk-lit field: warm with sun but dusty with night. He nudges her shallowly, knowing simply being inside her creeps him dangerously towards the red zone, even if he goes at this halfheartedly. Dana Scully is deadly to his stamina.

“Harder,” she wheezes, “Oh God Mulder, I want _all_ of you, I want you. _Please_.”

He gives it to her then. With no quarter, so to speak. He gives her everything he has in him because after all, this is for her. For every adamant scientific discussion, for every skeptical look, for every raised eyebrow that once drove him nuts but has become one of his favorite things on that flushed, precious face…he thrusts into her, nips her neck, runs his hands up the length of the muscled thighs cradling his hips. With the force of his movements, she’ll be tender tomorrow, but he knows she quietly loves little reminders of their couplings…he does, too.

He knows it’s enough when her neck arches back, the tip of her chin bumping against his ear. And she moans— _really_ moans—the sound of a woman in complete, honest bliss. It’s the siren call of her surrender, of her body’s complete betrayal of her need for control, that does him in; that she trusts him enough to be vulnerable, to allow him to feel the fluttering and clenching of her contractions and to see the bloom of blood flushing and mottling beneath her skin.

Through the haze of his own orgasm he sees her face smooth and slackened with release before he grits his teeth and grinds his hips into her, not wanting to let go, not wanting it to ever, ever end.

It does though, as it inevitably must, but then minutes later she smiles, blushes, looks pleased and shy, and he falls in love with her all over again. She reaches for him and he draws her close. She clambers onto him and nestles her head on his chest. She’s asleep in moments.

This is for her. And anything that is good for her is wonderful for him.


	68. Again, Mulder.... Please?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Again, Mulder.... Please?”

He’s pulled from sleep with a gentle start, the kind of start that makes him realize he’d forgotten he’d fallen asleep. He feels heavy, drained, but in the most unimaginably pleasurable way he’s ever known. Full. That’s how he’d describe how he feels—his mind and chest and soul feel _full_.

He’s in his bedroom, and he doesn’t remember really getting there. It had to have been intentional though, because he can feel the brush of the blankets wrapped around him. The blinds are closed. There’s a half-full glass of water on his night table.

It’s pitch dark still, signalling that he likely has a good few hours before dawn seeps in. As he becomes more in tune with his spatial awareness, he realizes there’s a warm heaviness against his side, and he swears he sees stars when it all comes back to him in a blinding surge of high blood pressure.

Scully made love to him. He made love to Scully. Something he had berated and scolded and tried to prevent himself from dreaming about had happened.

Suddenly he realizes why he woke up, why he feels so full and warm and _good_. She’s awake. He can feel her small, capable hand slip into the waistband of his sweatpants and she stroking him slowly beneath the fabric. She’s a quick learner, his Scully, and she’s clearly taken mental note of the things he liked before because oh god, that feels so good…

She must realize he’s awake, because she presses her smooth, naked body closer to him. Her breath rustles in his ear as she whispers his name and she moans softly, almost as if the pleasure she’s oh-so-casually giving him is sinking right into her. The thought…the mere _concept_ of Scully feeling arousal right now floods into his heated erection and he sighs when she squeezes the root of him.

“God, Mulder…” she husks almost shyly, and the way she whispers he knows she’s wet, “Again, Mulder…please?”

He wants to weep in wonder at the sheer _need_ he hears in her voice.

“Scully for Go…why are you even _asking_ me tha…?”

Before he can even finish his sentence, she’s emerged from the cocoon of his sheets and pawing unceremoniously at his sweats. He’s so hard he can barely even think and narrowly misses his opportunity to help her get him undressed by raising his hips from the mattress. She pulls his waistband down just far enough so that he slips free, and before he can even ask what she needs she’s clambering atop him, soft pants rushing from between her lips. She sinks down on him in one fluid, flawless motion and her moan almost sounds like a sob.

“Oh God, that’s so good,” she breathes, and he can’t help but grasp her hips, wanting her closer in the darkness. He can barely see her, but her scent and sound and presence has become so familiar to him over the years he doesn’t need sight.

He hopes this second time means there’ll be a third. And a fourth. And a forever. He hopes this second time means she won’t avoid his gaze tomorrow morning when they meet in the office. He suspects she’ll be gone in the morning before he wakes but he prays that this second time means she’ll blush when he smiles at her, that she’ll stand a little closer than usual when she shows him an X-ray.

When she leans down and kisses him in rhythm with her hips, he hopes even more.


End file.
